


Blood Moon

by TheFirstOfHisName



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Aerys is Dracula, Aerys wasn’t mad, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, Blood Orgies, Blood and Violence, Bukkake, Creampies, Cuckolding, Dark High Fantasy, Dark Magic, Dhampirs, Dorne is where the orgies happen, Double Penetration, Dragonstone is Castlevania, Drama, Dubious Consent, Epic Battles, Erotica, Exploring Essos, F/F, F/M, Facials, Fetish, Fire and Blood, Foot Jobs, Gangbang, Ghouls, Hand Jobs, He takes after his father, Hedonism, Hot Hybrid Sex (Vampire Diaries), Hybrids, Infidelity, Inspired by The Originals (TV), Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon is a serious boy with a serious cock, Jonerys Endgame, Kinks, Love Triangles, Masochism, Masturbation, Multi, Necromancy, Nihilism, Oral Sex, Period Sex, Politics, Polyamory, Polygamy, Porn With Plot, Prophetic Visions, Rampant Incest, Rhaegar is Alucard, Robert is a vampire hunter, Romance, Rough Sex, Sadism, Self Loathing, Shapeshifting, Show and Book lore when it suits me, Sibling Rivalry, Sirens, Slow Burn, Smut, Spitroasting, Starks are Werewolves, Succubus, Targaryen Restoration, Targs are Vampires, The Targaryens are the Originals, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Trial of Seven, Vampire Compulsion, Viserys isn’t a cunt, Voyeurism, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2020-06-26 01:56:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 86,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFirstOfHisName/pseuds/TheFirstOfHisName
Summary: House Targaryen reigned supreme for nearly 300 years, ruling over the Seven Kingdoms from the Iron Throne but not without trial and error. From Targaryen civil wars and the extinction of all dragons to the Tragedy at Summerhall and Robert’s Rebellion left the once proud family, the last of the blood of Old Valyria on the brink of collapse until one man who put his family before his own honor, Bloodraven, conjures a spell of immortality to preserve his house disregarding the costs. Despite his best efforts, the Targaryen dynasty still falls and is deposed from their rightful throne. There are those who think House Targaryen dead and some desperate to restore their legacy even at the cost of their own humanity. Will who sits the Iron Throne matter in the end when dead men rise from the cold depths of the Lands of Always Winter? Who will be able to lead the people when the dead come marching? The blood will always tell.This story is an AU where Aerys and Rhaella have 7 children including Rhaegar, Viserys and Daenerys who we all know with their other siblings who died in childbirth or in the cradle growing to adulthood. The divergence begins from the reign of Jaehaerys II but the story starts around Season 1/Book 1.





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Time for Dragons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114515) by [DolorousEdditor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DolorousEdditor/pseuds/DolorousEdditor). 



> So yes this is called Blood Moon, I know HBO had a prequel show in the works called that based on The Long Night but I thought it was more fitting to this story that revolves around mostly vampires and werewolves. Though this is still an ASOIAF story at heart I did take liberties to grab lore from other shows such as The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, and Castlevania. True Blood, Hellsing, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer were also influences and maybe just maybe a little bit of Twilight.

House Targaryen

**King Aerys II** : A beleaguered king.  
\- Despite his best efforts to quell the shroud of darkness that covered his family, he became the darkness itself. Ruled by paranoia and grief, and haunted by the past the king slowly descended into madness after his father’s legacy was taken from him. Just how far will he go to regain his family’s rightful throne.

 **Queen Rhaella** : Sister-wife to King Aerys II. Mother to seven of his children.  
\- Married to her brother at a young age though there was no fondness between them, they grew to love each other as their marriage grew fruitful despite Aerys’ flaws.

 **Rhaegar** : The Crown Prince of Dragonstone, first born son and the heir to the Iron Throne.  
\- Famed for his beauty and grace, loved by women and men alike. A great knight, a skilled musician, intelligent and mature beyond his years yet still an enigma. Very much a prodigy at anything he put his mind to and had all the makings of a good King until one fateful decision sends the realm into chaos.

**Elia Martell** : First wife to Rhaegar, mother of two of his children.  
\- The beautiful Dornish princess, though her marriage to Rhaegar was not romantic one they were happy after she gave him two children. Her deteriorating health after birthing them left her fragile and their relationship strained.

  * **Rhaenys** : The eldest child of Rhaegar and Elia. All the looks of a Martell, bronze and beautiful with golden brown hair and glowing orange eyes. The playful princess often hot blooded with an impulsive streak due to her Targaryen and Martell lineage and under the influence of her cousin Arianne she often gives in to those impulses.
  * **Aegon** : The son of Rhaegar and Elia. Handsome, charming, and brave much like his father with all has the classical Valyrian features despite his Martell descent. Though he does not remember his father the memory of him is still something he feels he must honor and a weight he carries in the quest for the Iron Throne. He is best friends with his cousin Quentyn who he was trained at arms with by his uncle Oberyn.



**Lyanna Stark** : The She-Wolf. Second wife to Rhaegar. Married in secret, mother to his youngest child.  
\- The wild beauty thought to be dead by most of the realm, only her brother Ned Stark and friend Howland Reed know the truth. Hidden from prying eyes, she raises her son alone at Greywater Watch. Though many years have passed, she is still as fierce as ever whether it’s the wolf blood or something else.

  * **Jacaerys** : The second son of Rhaegar. The son of Ice and Fire, his parents’ love brought the country to war as his father believed their union would result in a prophesied child. Very much his mother’s son with his Stark-like features. Mostly sullen and guarded, his existence kept secret from the world until a dream calls for him to leave the only home he’s ever known.



**Shaena** : Sister-wife to her brother Daeron. Eldest daughter to Aerys and Rhaella.  
\- Her bouts with melancholy are only surpassed by her brother Rhaegar, in a better world she would have been his sister-wife but that world doesn’t exist.

  * **Visenya** : The only daughter of Shaena and Daeron. (Actually Rhaegar’s eldest daughter). A sweet and innocent girl by all accounts very similar to her aunt and best friend Daenerys, every bit as stubborn too. A plain beauty whose sensuality and passion is often stymied by her overbearing parents.



**Daeron ’Dragoneye** ’: Second son to Aerys and Rhaella.  
\- A fine knight, earning the name Dragoneye after being maimed, he instills fear in many, living to serve his family at the behest of his father no matter the cost. Extremely jealous of his elder brother Rhaegar, his marriage with his sister is out of duty not love to his disappointment.

 **Aegon** : Third son of Aerys and Rhaella.  
\- His nonchalant nature rubs many members of his family the wrong way. Women and drinking demand his attention more than matters of his house.

 **Jaehaerys** : Fourth son of Aerys and Rhaella.  
\- A calming force considering his family, where everyone is fire and blood. Somber and self-loathing, many confide in him and look to him for guidance despite his age.

 **Viserys** : The fifth and last born son of Aerys and Rhaella.  
\- Mostly ignored by his older siblings but that doesn’t discourage his ambition. Willing to take on any responsibility for the betterment of his House, seeking glory and respect. He’s very close to his younger sister, many think he’s smitten with her.

 **Daenerys ‘Stormborn’** : The youngest daughter and last child of Aerys and Rhaella.  
\- Fair and beautiful, greatly resembling her mother considered the pride and joy, and future of the family. She is loved and resented by her siblings, the innocent and meek girl has been sheltered from the darkness of the family. Her curious and adventurous nature is mostly quelled in order to protect her.

The Small Council/Court

**Shiera Seastar** : One of the Great Bastards of King Aegon IV, considered the most beautiful woman in Seven Kingdoms in her time, still a beauty now. A temptress and sorceress to the highest degree, a mistress to King Aerys.

 **Melisandre** : A mysterious, serene and powerful red priestess of R’hllor and a shadowbinder.

 **Moqorro** : A red priest of R’hllor, specializing necromancy and visions.

 **Kinvara** : A red priestess of R’hollor, specializing in dark potions and manipulation.

 **Jon Connington** : A friend to Rhaegar, filled with pain and regret, lives to serve and protect his silver prince’s son Aegon in Dorne.

The Kingsguard

**Ser Gerold Hightower** : The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, known as the White Bull, has served House Targaryen since Jaehaerys II

 **Ser Barristan Selmy** : Known as Barristan the Bold, having served House Targaryen since Jaehaerys II

 **Ser Arthur Dayne** : Known as The Sword of the Morning, the greatest knight of his time.

 **Ser Oswell Whent** : Known for his dark humor and signature bat wings on his helm have more substantial meaning now

House Baratheon of King’s Landing

**King Robert Baratheon I** : Bitter rival to Rhaegar Targaryen, took the Iron Throne after House Targaryen was ousted.  
\- Living in constant fear of a Targaryen restoration and the houses that may remain loyal, the King has taken extreme measures to see to the extinction of House Targaryen should they ever try to reclaim the Iron Throne.

 **Queen Cersei Lannister** : Wife to King Robert and mother of his three children.  
\- The lioness of the court, the cunning and vindictive Queen has grown tired of her husband’s machinations.

  * **Joffrey** : The eldest son of Robert and Cersei. The Crown Prince and Heir to the Iron Throne. (Actually Jaime’s) The spoiled and often cruel prince has an uncontrollable temper that is indulged by his mother. He craves the attention and respect of his father who has made it his mission to turn his son into a warrior.
  * **Myrcella** : Only daughter of Robert and Cersei (also Jaime’s).
  * **Tommen** : Youngest son of Robert and Cersei (Yes, also Jaime’s).



**Lord Stannis Baratheon** : Robert’s younger brother. Lord of Storm’s End. Master of Laws.  
\- A serious, stubborn, rarely-forgiving, hard man with a strong sense of duty and justice.

 **Selyse Florent** : Wife to Stannis and mother to Shireen.

  * **Shireen Baratheon** : Daughter of Stannis and Selyse. A sweet solmen girl very different from her father or mother. Loves reading and writing.



**Lord Renly Baratheon** : Robert’s youngest brother. Chief Advisor. Acts as Robert’s envoy to the rest of the realm, trying to mend or create relations with other noble houses.

 **Ser Davos Seaworth** : Landed knight, trusted advisor to Stannis.

 **Marya** : Wife to Davos and mother to his seven sons.

  * **Dale, Allard, Matthos, and Maric** : Eldest sons of Davos and Marya, in order of birth.
  * **Daven** : Fifth born son to Davos and Marya. -A squire to Stannis.
  * **Stannis and Steffon** : Youngest sons of Davos and Marya. In order of birth.



**Sandor Clegane ‘The Hound’** : Also referred to as “dog” by Joffrey who he is sworn to protect.

The Small Council/Court

**Lord Jon Arryn** : Hand of the King  
Chief among the rebel lords, fostered Robert Baratheon

 **Lysa Arryn** : Wife to Jon Arryn.

  * **Robert Arryn** : Son of Jon Arryn and Lysa. He is sickly.



**Lord Petyr Baelish** : Master of Coin

 **Pycelle** : Grand Maester

 **Lord Paxter Redwyne** : Master of Ships

 **Varys** : Master of Whisperers

The Kingsguard

**Ser Jaime Lannister** : Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, also known as the Kingslayer.

**Ser Arys Oakheart**

**Ser Boros Blount**

**Ser Mandon Moore**

**Ser Meryn Trant**

**Ser Balon Swann**

**Ser Preston Greenfield**

House Stark

**Lord Eddard Stark** : Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North  
\- Honor always comes at a cost. A trusted, close friend and counselor of King Robert Baratheon.

 **Catelyn Stark** : Lady of Winterfell, wife of Eddard Stark and mother to five of his children.  
\- Very protective of her children, a Tully by birth she still keeps to the Faith of the Seven tries to follow her House words, "Family, Duty, Honor."

  * **Robb Stark** : Eldest son of Ned and Catelyn, Heir to Winterfell.
  * **Sansa Stark** : Eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn.
  * **Arya Stark** : Youngest daughter of Ned and Catelyn.
  * **Bran Stark** : Second son of Ned and Catelyn
  * **Rickon Stark** : Youngest son of Ned and Catelyn



**Theon Greyjoy** : Heir to the Iron Islands. Hostage/Ward at Winterfell.  
-Taken after the defeat of the Greyjoys. He was raised alongside Robb Stark.

 **Ramsay Snow** : Bastard of Bolton, Ward at Winterfell.

 **Brandon Stark** : Older brother of Eddard Stark, former heir to Winterfell, Lord of Moat Cailin.  
\- The hot blooded Northmen has many regrets that still hang over him from the Rebellion. His life goal now is to protect the North as he keeps himself busy restoring the stronghold that protects it from the South.

 **Barbrey Stark** : Wife to Brandon Stark. Lady of Barrowton

  * **Roderick Dustin** : Only child and heir of William Dustin and Barbrey and heir to Barrow Hall (actually Brandon’s)
  * **Harlon Stark** : Second son to Brandon and Barbrey 
  * **Alarra Stark** : Only daughter to Brandon and Barbrey
  * **Alaric Stark** : Youngest son to Brandon and Barbrey




	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a dynasty in ruin, House Targaryen takes a new course of direction to rise from the ashes.

From the Dance of Dragons to the Blackfyre Rebellions and the Tragedy of Summerhall left the survival of House Targaryen resting on the line Prince Aerys who would later become king after his father King Jaehaerys II. With the dragons gone from the world and House Targaryen’s influence decreasing, making marriage alliances with the other great houses of Westeros seemed the best choice. It was only a generation prior that Aegon V let his desires be known to put an end to incestuous marriages in House Targaryen. Much to the king’s chagrin his eldest son Prince Duncan broke his betrothal to a daughter of House Baratheon and gave up his claim to the Iron Throne to marry a commoner by the name of Jenny, commonly known as Jenny of Oldstones. Taking note the king’s second son Jaehaerys who was betrothed to a Tully soon followed suit with his sister Shaera who was betrothed to a Tyrell went against their father’s wishes and secretly wed. In the end all of Aegon V’s sons broke betrothals for love, slighting several great houses. It wasn’t long after Jaehaerys and Shaera had their first child, a son who they named Aerys then a daughter Rhaella two years after.

While Jaehaerys himself had married for love, he later commanded his son Prince Aerys and his daughter, Princess Rhaella to marry despite neither desiring the match. Of course this match came to fruition due to the appearance of a woods witch who was brought to court by Jenny of Oldstones, the witch prophesied that the prince that was promised would be born from their line. Despite King Aegon V’s disproval the siblings were wed, the only ones less fond of the match were the siblings themselves. It was only a short time after in 259 AC that the Tragedy at Summerhall took place, an event that would reshape House Targaryen forever. In a desperate attempt by the king to bring dragons back into the world to restore the family’s power after multiple failed marriage pacts which sullied many relations, a massive fire broke out that killed multiple members of House Targaryen, including King Aegon V himself and his eldest son, Duncan. Amongst the tragedy, born in blood and grief, a gift was given to Aerys and Rhaella as she gave birth to their first born child, a son Prince Rhaegar.

And many gifts from the gods followed after, Rhaella would give Aerys seven children to reinvigorate the dwindling Targaryen line. The marriage between Aerys and Rhaella was not a happy one in the beginning but they grew to love one another as their union grew fruitful.

Twenty-three years would pass between the birth of Rhaella’s first child and her last.

Rhaegar (259), Shaena (263), Daeron (264), Aegon (272), Jaehaerys (274), Viserys (276), and Daenerys (282).

Rhaegar, the Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, was admired and loved by all despite his solemn nature. Shaena, the sweet girl who had always been closest to her older brother was the answer to her mother’s prayers for a daughter. Daeron, the strong willed and quarrelsome second son who aspired to be a knight of the Kingsguard for his father and would grow to squire for the legendary Ser Arthur Dayne. Aegon the adventurous, the middle child and the most outgoing of all the boys, and then there was Jaehaerys the fourth boy, obedient and quiet the very opposite of his brother Aegon but they still remained very much inseparable. Viserys, the youngest boy and often forgotten, pampered and demanding of attention. Lastly came Daenerys, it was her birth that was the last domino to fall, the last dragon to emerge from the ashes of a dynasty up in flames.

Daenerys’ birth and the death of Queen Rhaella in childbirth during the great storm at Dragonstone, coupled with an all out rebellion against the crown, the death of his first born son Rhaegar, all these events lead to the literal death of King Aerys as they once knew him and he would never be the same again.

Not all men are their fathers, nor are all Targaryens mad, and the realm at large was thankful for that early during King Aerys’ reign. His father King Jaehaerys the Second of his Name once said that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin, every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin in the air, and the world holds its breath to see how it will land but what happens when a Targaryen dies but is reborn and the gods have nothing to do with it.

**DAENERYS**  
289 AC

It was another night she had jumped awake from her sleep, she would always have these vivid dreams and it always the same thing, a dream of dragons. Three dragons of gold, black and silver, the fearsome beasts always emerging from a large fire letting out a roar that shook her to her core and woke her from her dream. She didn’t know what the dreams meant, everyone always dismissed them when she would ask about it. It was only Viserys that would entertain her wild imagination, she would sneak into his room and ask him what he knew about dragons. He would tell her about the dragon skulls that lined the throne room in the Red Keep, he spoke of the Iron Throne that was made of a thousand swords of Aegon’s enemies that was forged by the fire of Balerion the Dread who was the fiercest and biggest dragon, and the mount of Aegon the Conqueror. Her brother told her that dragon dreams were fairly common in their family but these dreams felt different almost like visions. Her ancestor Daenys had a dream that led House Targaryen to leave Valyria and they found Dragonstone. Maybe it was the fact that their ancestral home was back where the dragon lords of old once held dominion over most of the known world for a time. Valyria a city of wonder, once thought to be the greatest in the known world.

_A city of a thousand years and all that men had learned, the doomed consumed it all alike._

Her siblings often told her stories about it thinking it would scare her but it only made her more curious. Though to her disappointment she was never allowed outside the castle walls, the surroundings were too dangerous. The doom still ruled Valyria they said, the sea was still boiled and smoked, and the land was overrun with demons. Yet her family was the last of the blood of Old Valyria, Daenys the Dreamer had saved House Targaryen with just a dream, perhaps she could do the same and bring back dragons into the world and bring her family west again.

Her bare feet padded silently across the empty corridor as she left her chambers. The hour was late and the night chill made the stone floor cold against Dany’s feet. She’d left her slippers back in her chambers, then she noticed Meraxes roaming the hall. “Naughty Meraxes,” she scolded eyeing the black kitten that was only noticeable in the dark by its piercing golden eyes. She calmly stepped closer to it trying to catch it only for it to dash away from her. “Where are you running to?” she asked as she gave chase when she finally caught up to the kitten they had found themselves in the throne room. She picked up Meraxes and cradled it her arms “You’re not supposed to come in here,” she reminded the kitten. Meraxes nuzzled her chest and purred some, making her pout turn into a grin.

Meraxes being named from a dragon only seemed to remind her that she wanted a real one, like the ones she had been dreaming about. In those dreams she flew on the backs of dragons, waving down at the world below. Her dragon dreams always made her happy even though Viserys told her she shouldn’t get too excited, that the last dragon was the size of a cat, that she wouldn’t be able to ride. Something told her he was just jealous he doesn’t fly when he sleeps. Just thinking of sleep made her yawn reminding her how tired she was but the flickering torches had caught her attention. It was coming from the Painted Table room, and as she neared she could hear whispers. Many voices she heard, the closer the louder they got. The voices started to sound familiar, voices she had known her whole life.

Voices she had loved.

She came to a pair of heavy black stone doors, one of which was ajar just enough for Dany and Meraxes to peek through. Daenerys glanced furtively across the room, within it she saw two white cloaked Kingsguard knights standing guard and a number of people arguing. Her father and mother sat at the head of the table, with her elder siblings occupying the rest of the seats and the silver haired woman named Shiera standing near the balcony staring off in the distance behind her father.

“The rebels treason must be answered.” Her father spoke in his usual iron tone, his gaze moving from person to person. His purple eyes burned from beneath his silver-gold hair that hung down to his waist in wild tangles, his beard was matted and unwashed. “Balon Greyjoy sets his longships to reaving, burning the Lannister fleet at anchor and names himself King of the Iron Islands, while we wallow in our sorrows half a world away, what I would give to see the look on Tywin Lannister’s face.”

“So you would have us fight alongside scum just to settle petty old squabbles?” her eldest brother Daeron questioned.

“Petty? The man was my friend, we grew up alongside each other, I raised him up to be my Hand and he betrayed me,” her father hissed banging his fist on the table. “If we let this opportunity pass who knows when we shall have another.”

Disapproving murmurs filled the room with one voice being clearer than the rest, that of her mother’s. “It would be nonsensical to throw our lot with them,” the Queen said her hand covering his fist to calm him. “Let them fight amongst themselves while we gather our strength.”

Many told her how much she resembled her mother but she never did feel as pretty. She wore a gown of the deepest purple to match her eyes and had her long platinum white hair done in a braid that reached the small of her back. Her mother and father seemed almost opposites next to each other, her father was far more intimidating and strict especially with the others, and though he tried to hide it he had a bad temper but he was always kind to her whereas with her mother, Dany had never even heard her raise her voice once. She had a calming presence about her even without speaking so when she did, people listened.

“The Ironborn have started a war they have no hope of winning, the Kingdoms are united under the Baratheons.” Daeron reasoned and the many in attendance nodded their head in agreement including their mother. It was her older sister who spoke next, “Even if we wanted to fight, we have no ships, we have no army.”

“What do women know of war?” her father asked.

“Nothing except usually the bigger number wins, we have no numbers, nobody supports us, none of the other great houses support the Greyjoys. I doubt there’s anyone outside of this room eager to die for the Targaryen name.” She said. Though she was a girl, Shaena was the wisest and oldest with Rhaegar gone. Mother had told her they were especially close being the two oldest and though they spoke of him seldomly, his presence still lingered, the mere mention of his name seemed to pain them, Shaena in particular. It hurt her to know she had a brother she never knew.

“No doubt they have the numbers yet the odds will be in our favor still with her at our side.” He boasted as he gestured to the woman named Shiera who still had her back to them. Viserys had told her that Shiera was like their long lost aunt except she wasn’t mother or father’s sister. As if she was summoned she came sauntering over to the table, grasping her father’s outstretched hand. ”I live to serve my king.” She said, her father smiled. “And it is for a king to command and for his subjects to obey,” he exclaimed.

“I stand ready,” grunted Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of her father’s Kingsguard, a hard man by all accounts. Ser Barristan, the white haired knight who made for much better company spoke up as well. “Give me a command and I would gladly act in my king’s name.”

“A King only in name.” Daeron whispered as he took a sip of wine, words he soon regretted when a deft silence came upon the room after. Jaehaerys and Aegon could only grimace, while Shaena’s head just dipped.

Father glared at him, though Daeron did his best not to make eye contact there was no doubt he could feel the daggers. “Careful now, boy,” their father warned raising a finger squarely pointed at Daeron. His nail was so long that it reached her brother’s cheek right below his bad eye. “I’m your father before I am your King, you’d do well to remember that.”

“I meant no offense father.” Daeron replied.

“I think what Daeron meant to say was that Shiera may have her magics but we’re talking about going to war against six kingdoms at the very least,” Aegon explained.

“You doubt me after all you’ve seen?” Shiera asked. The one thing that could not be questioned was her beauty. Her long silver-gold hair and heart-shaped face to go along with her haunting mismatched eyes, one dark blue, the other bright green. She always wore light colors mostly of ivory and a cloth of lace. She moved from father’s side, slowly walking to Aegon, her hips swaying as she lay a finger under his chin.

Aegon blushed as she was nearly sitting on his lap. “I don’t, I’m just curious is all,” 

“Are you such a fool to let a pretty face and tits sway you or are you so eager to meet death? Men and gold win wars, not magic tricks.” Daeron berated as he eyed Aegon who didn’t seem to be paying attention as he was enamored with Shiera’s closeness.

“Death is nothing to be afraid of, I can assure you,” their father said confidently.

“It would be my honor to die for my King.” Ser Barristan declared.

Ser Gerold nodded. ”A Kingsguard could ask for no better end than to die fighting,”

Jaehaerys frowned at them with dismay. “Two men as capable as you all are, what purpose would that serve. Not all of us are knights of the Kingsguard, we all can’t be as bold Ser Barristan or as fierce as Ser Gerold, we’re not warriors.” Jaehaerys pressed as he nervously played with his wine glass.

“Speak for yourself,” Daeron remarked.

As she continued to listen on, she felt a hand on her shoulder that startled her which in turn made her fumble the cat, Meraxes fought free of her hold, lunging down to the floor and bolting into the room. All eyes followed the cat, and then to the open door it entered through until it was her they all were looking at.

“ _Daenerys._ ” Her mother spoke sharply as she stood up with a hand on her hip. ”What are you doing up this late? Were you spying on us young lady?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Daenerys lied, though she doubted her mother believed it as she glared at her knowingly. “I couldn’t sleep,” she added rubbing her eye with a fist to try and further sell the half lie.

”And is that Viserys behind you?” She asked. Daenerys just froze, not wanting to answer and get her brother in trouble too but it was already too late as she drew closer. Their mother picked up the cat and opened the door fully and pulled them inside. “You shouldn’t be wandering around the castle dead of night especially with no shoes, I was raised you better, you’ll catch a chill.”

“Dragons don’t get cold,” she replied.

”That doesn’t excuse your behavior nor your brother’s,” 

“I was only looking for Meraxes and I found her here mother.” Viserys explained, clearly trying to avoid a scolding. Daenerys stepped on his foot hard for his voluntary confession.

“Ow that hurts Dany!” That earned a frown from her mother and laughs from the Kingsguard knights.

“That’s my daughter, so fierce at a young age already. More heart than the lot of you,” she heard her father say. She enjoyed the praise even if he was only joking, she saw the warm smile he wore, the gentleness that her father still had even though everybody thought him hard.

“You all could learn something from your sister,” he said loudly. “The blood of the dragon is in all of us and that still means something. We were born from kings, queens, princes and princesses, generations of Targaryens raised in King’s Landing, a city we raised and we must take it back.” 

“And we will, when it is in our favor,” her mother replied with a raised eyebrow. He huffed, rubbing his temple in frustration. “Rhaella, see to the children would you.” He suggested.

She seemed hesitant to go but nodded turning them back towards the door. “Come along sweetlings, time for bed.”

“Are we going on a trip?” Dany asked, “I want to come with you, I never get to go anywhere. We can bring Meraxes.”

“It’s too dangerous sweet girl, perhaps when you’re older we can, but for now Dragonstone is our home.”

She didn’t want to go back to her room, there were hundreds of more questions she wanted to ask.

Her mother gave Meraxes back to Viserys and lifted her up against her chest easily. “Come now, Daenerys, you can have all your sweet dragon dreams.” Father rose from where he was seated and rushed to embrace them, his hand brushed through Viserys’ hair and gave her smooches on her forehead.

“Maybe your mother can sing you one of those songs you like to help you sleep, would you like that?” As he patted her head, she nodded into her mother’s chest. As they exited the room her mother closed the door behind them and carried her through the halls of their home.

“Are you going to leave too mother?” She asked, biting her lip. She shook her head. “My place is with my children, I would never leave you Daenerys.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, who else would make sure you and Visenya don’t get into any mischief.”

When they reached Viserys’ room he was still pouting when she kissed his brow good night. “When am I gonna be able to stay up with the family?”

“It can’t be helped Viserys, you’re still mama’s baby boy.”

“But I’m not a baby anymore, I’m nearly four and ten,” he said solemnly.

“Fine, a young man then but you’ll always be my favorite boy but don’t tell anyone that, you remind me so much of Rhaegar.”

“Mothers can’t have favorites,” he reminded her and she smiled. “Yet you’re my favorite still,” she replied pinching his cheek. “Just as Daenerys is my favorite girl, my two youngest, my sweetlings. Now go on and try and get some sleep.” She watched as Viserys went off into his room while she laid her head against her mother’s shoulder, closing her eyes. As they headed towards her room, her mother began to hum and rub her back soothingly. Her mother’s arms was better than any warmth a bed or blanket could provide.

She couldn’t imagine a life without her or her father, or her precious siblings. They were all different and she loved them all the same. They made the otherwise dreary castle very much tolerable. She was born and raised at Dragonstone, it’s all she had ever known. They had told her that her mother gave birth to her during a great big storm and it’s how she earned the name Stormborn. It was just after the rebellion which she knew little about except that’s when her brother Rhaegar was taken from her. Though her family spoke little of him, she still had heard many things. Ser Barristan said he loved to play the harp, Viserys told her how great of a fighter he was, Shaena mentioned how much he loved reading and how chivalrous he was. Daeron considered him his rival and that made him into who he is today. Even Aegon who never took anything seriously would tear up when telling stories of their youth until he couldn’t anymore and Jae had to finish telling it. She never knew Rhaegar and it hurt to know she had another brother who she never got the chance to meet but she understood why they would hardly speak of him. She felt guilty for pestering them about him but she wanted to know more about him.

She wanted to know more about everything. The secrets, the history, the legacy they left behind in the west but what she wanted most of all is for her family to take her serious, to not be treated as a child but she still was one begrudgingly, so she would be content to be one for now and enjoy being carried in her loving mother’s arms.

**SHAENA**

As everyone settled in once again after the interruption, they still had the task at hand of how to proceed about the Greyjoy Rebellion. She really couldn’t be bothered, she didn’t even understand why this was up for discussion it would be an obvious mistake to join their rebellion, it would be snuffed out almost as quickly as it started.

“That girl may be the only hope for this House,” her father said as he sat back down. His long pointed nails stretching across the the map table.

“How so?” Daeron asked.

“I thought the better of you, clearly a mistake on my part. Ten years of marriage and no children so either she’s barren or Rhaegar is a far better man than you.” She could see Daeron grit his teeth, their father always seemed to enjoy provoking him. “House Targaryen will die out if we can’t produce any heirs, I was hoping it didn’t come to this.”

She grew annoyed with his rambling. “What are you going on about about now?”

“Your mother cannot have anymore children, and it seems you can’t have any as well unless Daeron here doesn’t know where to put it.” He explained. 

“I can have children or have you forgotten Visenya.” She begrudgingly reminded him though she knew he always enjoyed his slights against her daughter.

“Your bastard daughter I remember all too well,” he replied harshly. “But this family needs a trueborn Targaryen to carry the name or we’ll be the last Targaryens the world will ever know.”

“But we’re not the last Targaryens, Rhaegar’s children still live.” Aegon reminded him. Their father only groaned and rolled his eyes hearing that. “Yes, your brother Rhaegar breeded the Dornish princess and made half breeds what of it.”

She grew annoyed with him and the way he spoke of Rhaegar. He spoke of blood and hers began to boil. She decided to take a swig of wine less she say something she regret. “They carry the Targaryen name.” Aegon reasoned.

“The name is not all that matters, it’s the blood. The blood of Old Valyria runs through our veins, the last of it, to taint it with lesser houses would be foolish.”

She sneered at that. “You chose to marry him off to her.”

“A choice forced upon me by the Faith and yet Rhaegar dishonored it all the same by filling your belly. Why I was surprised he ran off with that Northern harlot, I’ll never know.”

“Lyanna Stark was with child when I last saw her.” It was Gerold Hightower who spoke, one of the three Kingsguard that Rhaegar left behind to defend his lady love.

Her father only shrugged as if the hearing the the possibility of another grandchild was of no consequence, “Another one of Rhaegar’s bastards probably running around,” he simply stated.

She grew incensed with every passing moment. Shaena knew there was no point in arguing with him, he would always see things his way, not matter how skewed they maybe, he was a king after all but she could not let his insults pass. “You all just sit here as he speaks ill of our brother like this, a dead man who cannot defend himself.”

“We can’t be sure Rhaegar is dead.” Lord Commander Hightower replied.

“It’s been almost eight years,” Ser Barristan said sadly, the hurt clear in his voice as he had been Rhaegar’s trusted friend. 

“Just cause you spread your legs for him, doesn’t mean we should not see his faults. To honor his memory you love to think of him as a shining prince but the boy was a fool with delusions of grandeur, everything that happened is because of him and now he’s left me no choice.”

Daeron’s curiosity peaked, his brows furrowed, finally speaking but not to defend Rhaegar’s honor. “What choice is that?” her brother asked.

Father stood up before expounding on his meaning, “We were torn from our home. We live in exile in a ruin, with no army or people to support us. My children you will be the force that will restore our family’s legacy, but first you must die.” He announced. All her siblings wore confused looks on their face. Aegon who always had a witty remark to make just shook his head in despair, Daeron sat there in a daze, the calmest of them all spoke surprisingly. “Why do we have to take back King’s Landing? The people don’t want us. We can carve out a new legacy here,” Jaehaerys protested.

“You ask that here?! Do you not see this table? Aegon the Conqueror took Westeros and founded the greatest dynasty the world has known. Sixteen kings ruled after him and I will do everything in my power to make sure I’m not the last.”

Offended by the idea, “So you wish to turn us into monsters?” she snapped.

“Is that what think of me and your mother?”

“You drink human blood for sustenance father. You haven’t been the same since—” She paused not wanting to bring up old wounds that would only serve to anger him.

“Since what?” he questioned. ”Since I was murdered by a man sworn to protect me, betrayed by his father who I thought my friend, my throne stolen from me, perhaps it was earlier when I learned of my first born’s death or was it later when my wife had to flee from the only home she’s ever known just to die giving birth to our last child. Which one of these changed me I wonder?” He finished his drink and threw the wine glass to the floor, shattering it. “No, the only monsters are the ones that took everything from me.” he finished.   
  


“And they will pay with their lives as well,” Shiera said coming to his side placing a calming hand on his shoulder. Her eyes focused on the woman next to her father, the mysterious silver haired woman, one of Aegon IV’s Great Bastards, who should have been dead more than half a hundred years ago, who showed up just exactly when she was needed most with magic that could not be explained. Ever since that stormy night at Dragonstone she had been with the family, whispering in father’s ear. If one didn’t know any better she could be mistaken her for his wife. She wouldn’t be surprised if her father had taken her into his bed, it wouldn’t be the first time he strayed from mother. “You did this!” Shaena screamed at the sorceress.

“I did nothing of the sort,” she said innocently.

“You whisper in his ear all night in the darkness, seducing him with your blood magic, swaying him to do your bidding.”

“Me command a King? I do not hold such power over your father as no man or woman does.” Shiera dismissed nonchalantly.

“Enough!” Her father shouted. “Ser Gerold see my will be done.”

She looked to her siblings and none protested any further, just resigned to their fate. Daeron her husband, her brother, the strongest of them all offered no words of defiance. _And why would he._ His pale hair was the shortest, kept just to his ear. The bone bruise around his left eye was misshapen with deep scars crossed through his flesh above and below. He was lucky to not have lost his eye. The contrast between eyes had a certain appeal, one lilac and the other cloudy and blood red, with a black slit like that of a dragon’s or at least that’s what Visenya thought it resembled.

Dragoneye, that’s what Visenya called him and the name stuck. Despite his maiming, Shaena still thought him handsome even though she never wished to be with him. She did as her father bid but she would never bare him children. Every time she would couple with him, their mother would bring her moon tea after. Visenya would be her only child and she was Rhaegar’s. For she was born from true love but a forbidden one. Their love went against the faith and their father’s wishes. It was only Rhaegar that ever had the strength to truly defy him, though she couldn’t blame the others as they were all younger. Even Daeron who she was only one year older than wouldn’t have the name Dragoneye if he hadn’t dared to speak against their father in which he paid dearly. He had screamed when father’s nail scratched his eye and left him blinded. Daeron wasn’t the strongest it had always been Rhaegar but he was gone and he wasn’t here to protect her.

A tear fell from her eye as she hopelessly watched Ser Gerold snap the necks of Aegon, Jaehaerys and lastly Daeron. When he reached her, he rubbed the tears from her eyes. She trembled as his strong hands brushed away her hair and wrapped around her neck, “It will all be over soon,” he whispered which were the last words she heard him say.

**The Bloodletting in the Reign of Jaehaerys ‘The Ripper’ II**  
As recorded by Grandmaester Pycelle

_Named for the Old Wise King Jaehaerys the First, King Jaehaerys the Second of his Name the son of Aegon V began his reign after the Tragedy of Summerhall that took his father._

_In the beginning he honored his name sake though he was young ascending the throne at four and thirty. He would face conflict almost immediately when the War of the Ninepenny Kings broke out. The conflict had been brewing for some time. The Band of Nine seized the Stepstones and Jaehaerys feared they would use the islands as a base of operation to launch a war on the Seven Kingdoms. Despite being the least martial of Aegon V's sons, he proved capable of defending the realm from the Blackfyre pretender Maelys the Monstrous. Wanting to end the Blackfyre threat once and for all, Jaehaerys assembled the armies of the Iron Throne. Though he wanted to lead them himself they were personally led by his hand Lord Ormund Baratheon. The war nearly lasted a year but in the end the young knight Ser Barristan Selmy, slew Maelys in single combat. With Maelys dead, the rest of the Band of Nine lost interest in Westeros and fell back to their own domains. He proved a capable king, restoring order to the kingdom, ending the Blackfyre threat and reconciling many of the Great Houses who had grown unhappy under his fathers' reign. Due to his delicate health, in his later years Jaehaerys was considered weak by many, he was sickly looking, pale and frail all those features seemed to be more pronounced. The sun would wear on him heavily, barely able to stay in direct sunlight. He was confined to his chambers for the majority of the day with his nightly activities growing more erratic as he was more active when the darkness covered the skies. He grew particular with foods, having an aversion to salt and garlic. It wasn’t until the blood letting began, that suspicion began to cast on the King himself. His night activities often coincided with missing women from the Kingswood only to be found days later drained of blood bodies disposed in the Streets of Silk and Shadowblack Lane. Many attest to even seeing the King roam the streets late at night in a daze though none was brave enough to step forward with such a claim._

_Targaryens were no stranger to blood magic, as recently as Brynden Rivers who was sent to the Night’s Watch for being dishonorable. Famed to be a sinister sorcerer and spymaster that ruled the kingdom with spies and spells affectionately known as Lord Bloodraven. The bloodlines which the Targaryens trace their ancestry back from were even more proficient._

_The Valyrians were more than dragonlords, they were known to practice blood magic and other dark arts, delving deep into the earth for secrets and twisting the flesh of beasts and men to fashion monstrous and unnatural beings. It was maybe for the perverse acts that the gods in their wrath struck Valyria down. Even the Tragedy of Summerhall, King Aegon V sought to wake dragons from stone with magic and the gods saw fit to bring fire upon the proud family._

_The madness in the family has been well documented, many a time the Faith had tried to stop the incestuous marriages. It is well known that madness ran deep in their blood, their obsession with power that stemmed from dragons and keeping the bloodlines pure came at great cost to their mental stability. If the kingdoms are ever to thrive in peace, their kind must be ripped out root and stem or they will bring fire and blood to the realm as their house words suggest._


	3. Prologue, Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert’s Rebellion, an uprising that would change the lives of many forever, Lyanna Stark most of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of the first bit is the rehashing of canon events with major changes to some events that precipitated the war or during. Keep in mind that it was written from an Archmaester’s perspective so not everything may seem as they appear, which I may go into further detail with later on from a character’s POV. If there’s any further questions leave a comment and I will answer.

**THE UNTOLD TALE OF THE REBELLION**  
As recorded by Archmaester Marwyn

_Though many try to point to the exact beginning of the rebellion it would best be described as a series of missteps, all precipitated by House Targaryen which is why in the end more than half the realm banned together to depose the dynasty of 300 years._

_The sows of descent could be dated as far back as the reign of Aegon V, when his children broke their betrothals, slighting several great houses_ _. One of those children eventually became king, Aegon V’s second son who would later be known as Jaehaerys II, whose short reign would be plagued with suspicions surrounding the king which did little to quell the growing tensions but it was not until the reign of King Aerys II that the great houses of Westeros cast House Targaryen aside. It was the king’s own son Prince Rhaegar whose actions greatly precipitated the war known as The War of the Usurper or Robert’s Rebellion. The king who had_ __already grew weary of the prince. His strange beliefs and actions only serve to fan the_ __flames that was his father’s erratic behavior._

_The King had a history none more prevalent than his petty squabbles with the Lord Tywin Lannister, who was his Hand of the King for many years, some of the best years Westeros had known. Many attributed the Seven Kingdoms prosperity to Lord Tywin for being everything the king was not. Tywin was diligent, decisive, tireless, intelligent, just and stern. In time the king’s personal feelings to hold sway and started regretting his choice for a Hand but not for any lack of competence on Tywin's part, but rather the opposite. He proved his value many a time, and as his reputation for his effectiveness became so well-known and widely respected that a popular rumor held it was Tywin, not Aerys, who truly ruled the realm._

_When Aerys had become aware of the tales being told in his kingdoms; that it was Lord Tywin who truly ruled the Seven Kingdoms and that he himself was but a hollow figurehead, he became greatly angered, so enraged that when_ _Lord Tywin's captain of the guard, Ser Ilyn Payne, had been overheard to repeat the sentiment, Aerys had the man's tongue torn out with hot pincers.  
_

 _Where previously Aerys had_ _heeded Tywin's counsel, he now often disagreed with his Hand and did the opposite of what Tywin suggested. When House Bracken and House Blackwood had a border dispute, Lord Tywin wanted to act in favor of House Blackwood, leading to Aerys siding with House Bracken. In an another act to spite Lord Tywin, the king_ _doubled the port fees for Oldtown and King's Landing and tripled them at Lannisport and other ports in Westeros which resulted in trade suffering with the merchants protesting the prices. At the Anniversary Tourney at King’s Landing for the 10th year of his reign, King Aerys openly shamed Joanna Lannister about her breasts, mocked Lord Tywin about the birth of his dwarf son but despite all the slights and the attempts to undermine him the Hand of the King remained loyal._ _Though the King’s behavior remained unchanged, it would be one disagreement that would later define the rest of his reign and behavior for better or for worst. It was the Defiance of Duskendale, the Lord of Duskendale proposed a charter that would be initially refused by Lord Tywin. It was spite that led the king to consider_ _the agreement which led to his capture and imprisonment when he arrived in Duskendale. The king was held prisoner for six months, all the while Lord Tywin_ _was trying to resolve the crisis and retrieve the king with minimal blood shed but it was only thanks to the heroics of Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard in a daring attempt that would win the king’s freedom. King Aerys now furious and blood thirsty had the Lord of Duskendale beheaded, then ordered the entire line_ _of Houses Darklyn and Houses Hollard be put to the sword. Every last member of both families was tortured than burned alive save one child. Following the defiance Aerys’ paranoia grew as he was deeply shaken by his imprisonment, never wanting to leave the Red Keep, believing that Tywin conspired to have him killed in Duskendale so that he could sit his son Rhaegar on the Iron Throne with his daughter Cersei being his Queen. So when Lord Tywin proposed the match, King Aerys denied it which would prove to be one of the last straws, the other being the king appointing Tywin’s son and heir Ser Jaime Lannister to the Kingsguard._

 _It_ _seemed a proper match, one between the royal family and the richest family in Westeros but King Aerys opted for Princess Elia Martell of Dorne. A suitable match for the heir to the Iron Throne and not an incestuous relationship that so many feared including the Faith so many were satisfied. That satisfaction did not last long as Aerys announced a betrothal of his second son Daeron to his daughter Shaena, which directly conflicted with an oath that Aerys took when he came into his throne of discontinuing the inbreeding between family. Many pointed to the perverse practice as to why Targaryens had a pension for cruelty and madness. For recompense for the misdeeds of his father, Aerys swore a sacred vow in the Sept of Baelor. Breaking faith with the Seven had dire consequences as the High Septon publicly denounced the family after hearing of another progeny of incest who was to be the heir run away with a young woman who was betrothed to another man while being married himself._

_Some believe the tourney was a chance for Rhaegar and lords loyal to him to meet in preparation for ousting the king who’s behavior only grew more erratic. Yet with Aerys in attendance, Rhaegar made no move to crown any save Lyanna Stark, who was betrothed to Robert Baratheon and he named her as his Queen of Love and Beauty. That folly earned not only the ire of the Dornish who felt their princess Elia Martell was slighted but also Robert Baratheon, and later Brandon Stark who would suspect the prince in his sister’s abduction._

_At the time of Lyanna Stark’s disappearance, Rhaegar himself was missing from the capital. When word reached Brandon Stark he rode with several companions to King’s Landing shouted for the Prince Rhaegar to “come out and die”. When King Aerys called for the men to be arrested and executed for plotting death if the prince, the Northmen resisted leading to the death of all save the heir to Winterfell._ It was soon after _Lord Rickard Stark was called to court to answer for the charges against his son where he in turn demanded his release through trial by combat._

_“Name a champion,” Lord Rickard told the king. “Let them face me, armored in plate and the truth of my cause.”_

_Aerys named a champion, the newest member of the Kingsguard, and the youngest to ever be raised to the order at the age of sixteen, Ser Jaime Lannister. “Prove your valor,” the King said. Though many in the court speculated the King solely chose Ser Jaime to further infuriate his former hand. “If he dies, he dies,” he was heard to say, though many knew Lord Tywin would not take his son dying lightly including Rickard Stark. When they_ _engaged in blows, the Lord of Winterfell the more seasoned warrior took an early advantage having the young knight on the defensive begging demanding that he yield. Ser Jaime did no such thing and as the fight prolonged, his youth proved to be difference with his movement in an intense clash that finally ended when Ser Jaime held off a doubled hand swing with his right hand and drew his dagger with left, jamming it into the eye and through the skull of the Lord of Winterfell. It is said that some at court had whispered that this_ _was the best possible outcome for Lord Rickard, that it’d be better if he fell on his sword than face the wrath of the lion._

 _To avoid further conflict between the great houses King Aerys assigned his own Kingsguard Ser Lewyn and several other guards to accompany Brandon Stark to find the wayward Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark who was rumored to be in Dorne. Ser_ _Lewyn, a Martell by birth and a son of the ruling House of Dorne would be knowledgeable of the area. When they rode out only days passed when word returned that in a rage Brandon Stark had murdered all his escorts. When they King received word of this he offered ten thousand gold dragons to the man who would bring him Brandon Stark’s head as well as demanding his younger brother Eddard Stark and Lyanna Stark’s betrothed Robert Baratheon who were wards in the Vale to be sent to King’s Landing as hostages until Brandon and Rhaegar were found. When Lord Jon Arryn refused, Aerys declared them enemies of the realm as the Vale, Riverlands, Stormlands and the North were in open rebellion._

_As the fighting began from the taking of Gulltown by the rebels to the Battles at Summerhall, the Battle at Ashford, the Battle of the Bells which all but one resulted in rebel victories, Robert Baratheon proved to be the greatest threat to the Targaryen dynasty since Daemon I Blackfyre, another cadet branch that was founded by the aforementioned bastard pretender. As the war effort looked grave with enemies all around them including within the city walls as the Faith and common people turned their backs on the royal family citing that incest had brought the just calimity on the country. King Aerys turned to the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower to find his son and heir and deliver him back to the Red Keep. When the crown prince finally returned from the south he took a host of forty thousand men, including ten thousand Dornish spears along with soldiers from the Reach, and the Crownlands. Considered the decisive battle in the war, The Battle of the Trident between the loyalist and rebels, the battle took place, on the northern bank of the Trident, where Rhaegar tried to cross the river. The loyalists had forty thousand men, while the army of the rebels numbered fewer men but were more battle hardened. Rhaegar and Robert Baratheon met in single combat with the battle raging on all around them. It it said Robert fought with the strength of ten men and Rhaegar still managed to wound him before Robert killed Rhaegar with a blow to the chest from his warhammer that scattered the rubies on the breastplate of the prince, there after it would be known as the ruby ford._

_Hearing of his first born son’s defeat at the Trident the dismayed King Aerys mind began to leave him much like his father before him. He barely slept or ate it the days that passed, mumbling words to himself. He eventually sent his pregnant sister wife Queen Rhaella along with their five reaming children to Dragonstone while keeping Rhaegar’s widow Elia Martell and their two children to Dorne, hoping what remained of the Dornish host would defend the city knowing that the rebels still meant to take the capital. In place of the Dornish came Lord Tywin Lannister, who had refused calls to arms from both loyalists and the rebels until that point, appearing at the gates of King's Landing with an army of twelve thousand men. Lord Tywin professed his loyalty to King Aerys, and while his Master of Whisperers Varys counseled Aerys to keep the gates closed, the king chose to listen to Grand Maester Pycelle and open the gates to Tywin's men. Once inside, the forces from the westerlands began to sack the city. What proceeded was unspeakable butchery including the death of Princess Elia Martell and her children Rhaenys and Aegon. King Aerys fears came true, betrayal but he remained ever defiant not resigned to such a fate he fate ordered the pyromancers who had been diligently at work in the days preceding to burn the entire city, rebels and common folk alike. “I’ll give them naught but ashes,” the king raged. The betrayal the king did not see coming was that of his own Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister the only remaining Kingsguard_ _in the capitol killed the pyromancers and then King Aerys himself that Targaryen rule had finally come to a just end._

_While his actions spared the city itself, little chivalry is attached to Ser Jaime’s deeds, he would henceforth be known as the Kingslayer as his detractors believed this all to be a plot by Lord Tywin, and that the knight was doing his father’s bidding.  
_

_After the Sack of King's Landing, Lord Eddard Stark arrived in the throne room to find Ser Jaime seated_ _on the Iron Throne with his blade stained blood with red, and with the dead bodies of the royal family at the steps covered with a Lannister flag. Lord Stark left the city in disgust to lift the siege of Storm’s End and rode further south in search of his still missing sister with six companions. Near the Red Mountains of Dorne, they found three knights of King Aerys’ Kingsguard, the Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower, known as the White Bull, Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and Ser Oswell Whent. Little is known except that the northmen and Kingsguard engaged in battle with only Eddard Stark and Howland Reed surviving the combat. Lord Stark would only find his sister dying from a severe fever._

 _The newly crowned King Robert would go on to_ _construct a new royal fleet to remove the threat of any other Targaryens that might undermine his reign, so he tasked his brother Stannis to assault Dragonstone where the rest of the Targaryens had fled before the sacking. With the strong weather keeping them at bay when the time came to lead the assault Lord Stannis found the remainder of the Targaryen fleet in tathers at sea and the island of Dragonstone gone from Blackwater Bay with mo explanation._

_When news reached King Robert he was incredulous, he declared he would not rest until every Targaryen that lived was dead at his feet for taking his lady love Lyanna away from him._

**LYANNA**  
281 AC

When she finally came to, she awoke in a bed of blood disoriented. The last thing she remembered Ned holding her as she grew weak. Whether it was the fever or the baby she had lost all her strength, her voice was gone but she managed to make Ned promise her. She was afraid but when Ned gave her his word, she felt brave, brave enough to meet death. He promised to look after her child because she knew she would not be able to, she had given up her hold on life but here she was, she could not explain it.

She could hear and smell everything, the room smelled of blood and roses. When she rose from the bed, the midwives were startled. Lyann could hear their hearts racing as they fled the room. The only heart she couldn’t hear was her own, she was dead as the black rose petals in her hand. When she moved passed the window from where the sun shone through, her skin ached as if it was burning which made her retreat back into the shadows to hole up in the corner where she sat with her legs to her chest and her face in her thighs. She didn’t even mind the blood that covered her gown when it touched her lips, she found she quite liked it.

She heard footsteps racing up the tower, steps too heavy to be that of women. When the sounds finally stopped she knew they had reached the top of the tower to the door but her face stayed buried in her arms and thighs. That’s when she heard a voice call her name, “Lya...” they said, though she already knew who it was without looking up. When she chanced to look upon their face, it was her brother Ned with Howland Reed just behind him. Their grey eyes met, his filled shock and awe.

“How...how is this possible?” Ned stammered. He asked her a question she hadn’t had the slightest answer to so she answered his question with one of her own. “Where is he?” Lyanna asked. Ned stepped closer to where she was seated and kneeled, the tears started flowing from his eyes again like when she had last seen him. He rubbed a thumb on her red cheek, looking at her curiously. “He’s with the midwives,” he finally said.

“I want to see him, I want to hold my son.” Lyanna demanded as she tried to quickly stand up but Ned held her there. “And you will, but how are you breathing right now, how is that you are alive? I felt you die in my arms.” Ned said in disbelief.

“I don’t know,” she sobbed.

“It must be some sort of magic,” she heard Howland Reed say. Ned snorted dismissively, as magic had long been gone from the world. “What did Rhaegar do to you?” her brother asked. She hardly liked the accusatory tone he used. 

“He didn’t do anything,” Lyanna replied. She felt him raise up from his knees, rubbing his chin still with the look of confusion on his face. “He must have done something, you died Lya, this isn’t normal. I’ve seen hundreds of men die in this war and none of them rose again.”

“A war started by Rhaegar Targaryen when he fled with her,” the crannogmen added.

His assumption angered her, he spoke of Rhaegar and didn’t have the slightest clue. “It was my choice to leave with him,” she corrected.

Ned shook his head, “You were betrothed to Robert.” He reminded her but she remembered that fact all too well. “I was betrothed to a whoremonger,” she snapped.

“He loves you Lyanna, he started a war for you.” Ned replied. She smiled sadly knowing all that he said might be true but she did not love him back. “Love is sweet dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature.”

“And what is Rhaegar’s nature? He was a married man.” 

“A marriage forced upon him, just like my betrothal was forced upon me. All we wanted was a choice that would be our own.” Lyanna shot back.

“How many men died for your choice?” he snarled, showing more emotion than she had ever seen as he had always had a calmness about him. “Thousands of Northmen dead, men with more honor than your prince. Our own father Lyanna.” She should feel guilty or sad, but she couldn’t find herself to feel anything. She loved Rhaegar and he loved her, they wanted to be together so they ran away. “I left father a letter, I told him I was leaving,” Lyanna said in her defense.

Ned began pacing around the room. “He received no such letter, Brandon went to King’s Landing to look for Rhaegar and was arrested, when father heard he followed...” his voice trailing off as if he was almost scared to say.

“How did he die?” she asked.

“A trial by combat, slain by Ser Jaime Lannister.” The room fell silent, it was never her intention for people to die for her, which is why she had left the letter for the maester. Her father wouldn’t listen to her pleas, he had left her no choice but to run away with Rhaegar. “What of Brandon, our brother?”

“He was wild with rage but he grieves for father. He blames himself for what happened.” Ned said sadly. She began to think of everything that happened before, when they first arrived in Dorne, trying to think of an explanation of how it all ended up this way. “Rhaegar had been having dreams of me dying in childbirth, he didn’t want to leave my side. It was only when Ser Hightower came and told us of the war that he left,” she confessed. “He left me a vile of his blood, he said it was special, that it would protect me from harm, that there was magic in it.”

“You’re not making any sense.” A still bewildered Ned said.

Howland studied her closely and her blood stained lips. “Seven hells, none of this makes sense,” he complained. “This one turns into a wolf, this comes back from the dead drinking blood. You Starks are full of surprises.”

“A wolf?” said Lyanna, wanting to know what he meant. Her brother coughed, “A turn of phrase,” he replied looking at Howland Reed. It seemed they were keeping secrets as much as she was. She stood up then, tired of their judgement, the secrets they kept amongst themselves including the whereabouts of her child but she was still held to the corner by the sunlight. “I want to see my child, we have to find Rhaegar.” Lyanna said.

“Rhaegar is long dead, crushed by Robert himself.”

She wouldn’t hear it, shaking her head defiantly. “He can’t be if I’m alive then he has to be,” said Lyanna. She tried to hurry past the light that peered through the room ignoring the burning sensation so that she may retrieve her child but Ned stopped her and moved her back to the bed, “You’re in no condition to be moving, you seem to be in pain.” Ned observed. She hated that he was right, the sun brought about an excruciating pain worse than childbirth.

“It’s the sun it hurts, it feels like my skin is on fire,” she divulged.

His grey eyes were filled with worry as he touched the skin of her arm, feeling how warm she was. “And how did you plan on going out there if you can’t stand the sun? Cause I have some bad news that’s all there is here in Dorne,” said her brother.

She laughed. “Don’t I know it, the only thing they have more than sun here is sand.” Ned smiled lightly, though he did it seldom, she remembered him how he smiled when he first found her here despite her being on death’s door after giving birth. “Let me see him,” she told him again but this time more tender, after a brief pause he looked to Howland and jerked his head to give a silent command.

When Howland returned he carried Jacaerys in his arms. The short man came forward and laid the babe in her arms, and she felt hopeful and joyous. She thought she would never have the chance to hold him again when she had given him to Ned. She rocked him in her arms, humming a sweet song as her son bawled. _Our son. A child of ice and fire._ His features were much more clear without the blood covering him, he was dark of hair with Stark eyes and Targaryen red cheeks. This child was the embodiment of her and Rhaegar’s forbidden love.“I just want to find Rhaegar so we can raise our child together.”

“It won’t be safe for him out there either, he’s a Targaryen, you said it yourself,” Ned said somberly. She hates the thought of her innocent child being in danger. “I would never let anyone harm him, he’s your nephew too, we have to protect him, the only way is to find his father.”

Ned exhaled heavily. “The Targaryens are gone. I saw Rhaegar fall at the trident, I saw what happened in King’s Landing when the city was sacked, how they...“ he stopped short, not wanting to say more. 

“What?” Lyanna asked.

“The Lannisters,” he said in disgust. “There was no honor in how the war ended. Ser Jaime slew his own king. Rhaegar’s children and wife lay dead at the Iron Throne along with him.” Lyanna felt flush, his eldest child would have been no older than three and the younger still a babe. Her sister-wife suffered a fate that would no doubt be awaiting her as well if people learned the truth. They would see Jacaerys as a threat, he’s Rhaegar’s only living heir. “I lifted the siege at Storm's End then came here, months have passed since and nobody has seen or heard of the prince coming back from the dead. Those who supported him either died fighting, have been exiled or taken the black or bended the knee to Robert.” He finished. She hated the thought of her son never knowing his father, it made her sick.

“So what do you plan to do with me?” Lyanna asked him. Her brother had always been solemn, she could see the worry but he was still a different Ned then she had grown up with. “Well you can’t go back to Winterfell, you’ve been gone for nearly a year if you show up with a babe, everyone will know it is the prince’s child, I don’t know if I could protect you from Robert’s wrath...but if you go to Greywater Watch with Howland, you could raise your son there from peering eyes. The castle is secluded, Howland is a good man we can trust him.”

The man in question spoke up, “You can my lady, for everything you did for me at the Tourney of Harrenhal, House Stark has always treated me fairly. I would be honored to have you and your son in my keep.” Lyanna considered their suggestion knowing it was the best course of action considering all that had happened.

“Okay,” she whispered, looking down at her child again, his grey eyes staring back at her, she would protect him no matter the cost. Ned got up, and rested a hand on Howland’s shoulder. “We ride for Starfall when the sun sets.”

“Why Starfall?” she asked. He picked up the sword that had been stood up against the foot of the bed, “It’s where this sword belongs now that Ser Arthur Dayne is dead, Dawn the ancestral sword of House Dayne.” Ned looked at it in reverence when he raised it, the pale blade sparkled in the sunlight.

“Do we ride for Starfall to honor Ser Arthur or is it so you can see his sister?” Lyanna quipped. Lord Reed couldn’t resist, letting out a chuckle.

“It’s reassuring to hear my sister has retained her sense of humor even in death and I’d have you know I'm a married man now. Though I’d be happy to see Ashara, I’m not sure if she will feel the same after I tell her that her brother died by my hand.”

“It was war,” the crannogman reminded him.

Ned sighed, “It was war...” he repeated.

* * *

They had rode south down the Prince’s Pass till they reached Kingsgrave, it was a straight ride to Starfall from there. Carrying a child while riding was complicated enough, the sun presented another obstacle entirely. The Dornish climate left a lot to be desired to be sure even compared to the dreary North, she still could not stand the heat. It made her weak, even with a hood over her head she felt it’s power wane over her. The Red Mountains provided a fair bit of shade that she could ride under for the most part. She preferred riding in the dead of the night when she felt at her full strength, the dark and quiet night gave her a sense of peace considering the circumstances.

She wanted to find Rhaegar, wherever he was, he could explain everything. He had spoke of so much that was to come during their nights together at the tower. Our child was the son of prophecy, that he would not be just a blessing to them but unto the world. The tower was their world for the time being nothing outside of it mattered, only them until everything changed.

It took them three nights to reach Starfall, the portions they had left could have lasted another night or so but Ned seemed determined to get there. The midwives were a great help with Jacaerys, she had to admit she didn’t know how to be a mother yet but she looked forward to learning, raising her boy to be noble and strong like his father. She didn’t yet accept she would have to raise him on her own, even if Lord Reed would help it could never be the same without Rhaegar.

The castle sat on an island much to her surprise, though she considered herself well learned she didn’t know much about the Dornish houses. Ned had said that Starfall was built where the first Dayne found a magic stone after he followed the path of a falling shooting star. Their ancestral sword Dawn was forged from the heart of the same magic stone, it's why their sigil is a purple field with the white sword and falling star. They arrived dead in the night, a strange bunch she half expected to be turned away. A man stood high at the guard tower as Ned let his intentions be known. He only told him that they carry the sword Dawn but not how he got in possession of it.

“Lower the bridge!” the guard called out. The small drawbridge was lowered and their group walked the plank as they were met by two men at the gate, “Welcome to Starfall,” they said in unison. Their group were escorted through an ascending twisting staircase.

When they we reached the top they were met by Lady Ashara Dayne, a beauty to behold. Young, tall and beautiful but her most notable feature was her haunting violet eyes similar to that of Rhaegar’s. This was only the second time she had seen the woman, the first being at the Tourney at Harrenhal. She had been the apple of her brother’s eye, both brothers, and they weren’t alone in that. Lady Ashara had been the center of attention at the great feast that first night, she danced with many a man including her brother Ned. It was the night Rhaegar had first sang to her to tears.

“To what do I owe the pleasure Lord Eddard?” She greeted.

Her brother’s shoulders hung heavy, she did not wish this burden upon him. “Though it pains me we meet under the circumstances my lady, honor demanded I stop here before returning North.” Ned said sadly.

“What is it?” the lady asked, Lyanna could hear the trepidation in her voice. Then her brother knelt, face facing the ground as he presented the sword. “This is my brother’s sword,” she said as ran her hand along the sheath. “Where is my brother?” Lady Ashara asked, though she felt the lady knew the answer.

“Ser Arthur is dead,” he informed her. She gasped in disbelief as the words struck her.

“How?” Lady Ashara cried. Her brother did not answer right away only gulping as he rose to his feet to look her eye to eye. “By my hand,” Ned replied. Her mouth was agape as she turned away from Ned bringing a hand to cover her face, that’s when she heard her sniffles. When she faced them again it had been teary eyed and distraught. “And honor demanded you come here?“ She shouted. ”What of your brother’s honor? Or your sister’s? Running off with a married man.” Lyanna took the slight in silence, knowing that grief had gotten the better of her.

“My lady I know the news I bring pains you, but your brother was a knight of the Kingsguard, he swore an oath to protect House Targaryen as the realm rebelled, he was my enemy as I was his.” Ned’s fists balled at his sides as he continued on, “But I ask you to find it in your heart, to allow us just a night of rest, and we’ll be on our way. My sister’s child, a night in a castle would do him well.”

“Rhaegar’s child?” She asked, staring daggers at her, Lyanna confirmed her suspicions with a nod.

“I must also ask that you tell nobody of this. She would be in danger as would the child. Surely a babe shouldn’t be judged for the mistakes of their mother or father. Protect her as your brother would, as he died doing.” Lady Ashara looked at Ned, her hands were wrapped around her stomach.

“Alright,” she conceded.

Lady Ashara showed them each to their rooms, which were very much modest but had walls that would keep out of the rough and dry climate of the Red Mountains to go along with a warm bed.

“Thank you,” Lyanna said. Lady Ashara’s hands folded in front of her after clearing her throat. “My mother gave birth just a fortnight ago, we have a wet nurse, Wylla, she would gladly help you if need be,” Lady Ashara offered. Lyanna only hummed in response. She turned to close the door behind her but Lyanna stopped her with a question. “Boy or girl?” She asked.

Lady Ashara’s head crept back into the room. “Excuse me?”

“Your mother, did she have a boy or girl?” Lyanna asked as she set Jacaerys down on the bed who was still fast asleep. 

Ashara studied her with those piercing violet eyes before answering, “A girl,” she said.   
  
“She must be extremely happy,”

“Outside of the breast feeding, or lack there of,” giving a half smile. “We thought her child birthing years over so she was very much surprised. She hasn’t been able to feed a breast so the wet nurse has been a big help,” she explained.

”Well I would very much appreciate the help, it’s been a long journey,” Lyanna stressed.

”I’ll let you rest then,” she said, leaving the room. Lyanna take her up on the offer come the morning but for now she and Jacaerys would enjoy the bed and rest their eyes, maybe even dream of his father.

The next morning they were feasted in the great hall of Starfall, the Lady Ashara had promised them a ship so they could be on their way. Ned and Howland had quickly devoured the breakfast, the bread and cheese were very satisfying along with the sausage that was burnt black with a cider to wash it all done. It all agreed with her stomach surprisingly, during her pregnancy certain foods did not yet when she returned to her room she was still wanting. For the remainder of the day she kept herself busy for the most part by being with her son. He had a calming effect on her, she was wrapped up in him, trying to be the best mother possible despite the obstacles she would soon face. The plan was to always leave in the dead of the night, when dusk came. Their hosts were kind enough to feed them once again and had even given them portions for their sail back North. She had left Jacaerys with the wet nurse Wylla for the time being, she needed the rest but when it was time to finally leave she went to go fetch her boy. When Lyanna entered the room, it was silent as the woman loomed over the boy as he peacefully slept but as she crept closer, she heard something that sounded very much like a beating heart. Lyanna soon realized it was not her own she was hearing but the wet nurse, how, she hadn’t the faintest idea. She could hear the blood pumping, she gulped feeling herself flush and wanting as she eyed the nurse’s exposed neck from behind.

“You have such a sweet boy,” she vaguely heard her say. Her lips continued to move but Lyanna hadn’t heard a thing, any words spoken was overtaken by the sound of her beating heart. It was like a primal urge took over her when Lyanna lunged at the woman from behind and bit into her neck. She held a hand over the wet nurse’s mouth to keep her from screaming as she might wake Jacaerys. Her resistance faltered, the strength leaving her body as the blood filled Lyanna’s mouth. The taste only emboldened her to drain her dry of all the blood in her body despite what it would mean. When she was sated she dropped the woman’s lifeless body, but when she looked at her still sleeping child, the regret instantly seeped over her. She rushed out of the room in a panic realizing what she had done. She had to find Ned she thought and when she did he was in his room getting their affairs in order for the journey North, there she explained what had happened regrettably.

“What do you mean you couldn’t stop?!” His voice rising. She felt a child how Ned barked at her, all she could do was lower her head as he chided her. Lord Reed made her feel no better with his comments. “She acts a beast more than a lady,” he said. “And I’m to invite her into my home?” He questioned.

Her brother shook his head, “Who would have her if not you?” He asked. “She’s violated guest rights, killing the wet nurse after they given us food and drink in their hall.” 

“We could leave the midwives in her stead as restitution.” Lyanna suggested. He exhaled heavily, rest his head against the wall for a brief moment before facing her. “That does little to change the fact of what has been done,” he stressed. 

“We should take our leave now and take the body with us,” the crannogman proposed.  
  
Her brother laughed incredulously, “And you don’t think they’ll notice their wet nurse gone?” 

“Better they think us thieves than murderers.” Lord Reed replied.

“I’ll speak to her,” Lyanna said suddenly.

“Haven’t you done enough?” Ned grunted. She deserved his admonishment but the situation would remain the same. “I’ll make her understand,” she said. “I could speak to her as a woman and a mother.” Ned was resistant but gave his consent, not out of trust she thought but out of desperation. Lyanna showed him to the room where she had left Jacaerys and the wet nurse then took her leave to find the Lady Ashara. She began where she had last seen her which was the great hall. One of the house servants told her she had retired to her chambers for the night but offered their service to guide her there. After making another climb of steps and walking through a stone corridor she was led to a door in which she knocked on after the servant left her to it.

”Who is it?” Lyanna heard from behind the door.

“Lyanna,” she answered.   
  
“Come in,” the voice called out after a brief pause. When she entered she saw the Lady Ashara getting ready for bed, she was naked save for some undergarments for a moment as she pulled a nightgown overhead. She could see why almost every man at Harrenhal had wanted her, even the stretch marks that decorated her stomach did little to take away from her beauty. Her skin still wet, the nightgown clung to her body, her pert nipples staring back at her.

“Lady Stark,” she greeted.

“I know your friendship with Elia Martell may put us at odds but I do appreciate the hospitality you have shown me and my son. Childbirth can be very difficult, we’ve been on the move ever since I very much enjoyed having a bed to sleep in, even if it was just for a night.”

“It’s what any decent woman would have done.”

Lyanna drew closer to the woman, where she stood bedside as their eyes met. “It’s why I ask something else of you, my body has gone through many changes since then, that only another mother could understand, it would be in your debt if you would allow us to bring Wylla into my service for the journey North.”

Ashara studied her, a seemingly understanding look in those violet eyes. “Yes, of course.”

“I could leave the midwives behind to help you,” Lyanna said trying to acquiesce them with the loss of the wet nurse but Lady Ashara’s mind seemed to be elsewhere. “With your sister,” she finished in a suggestive tone.

“Oh yes,” she quickly replied.

”What’s her name?” Lyanna posed 

“Allyria,” she answered.

“A pretty name, I’m sure she'll grow to be a beauty just like her mother.” Lyanna retorted with a smile before taking her leave. Quickly she made for the room she had left Ned in. When she returned she found Ned seated on a nearby bed with the wet nurse’s head rested in his lap. Jacaerys was still asleep in his crib. “She’s still breathing Lya, she just lost her strength and fainted.” Ned said.

“Howland went to ready the ship for us, we’ll be leaving soon, maybe we can leave her here.”

“Lady Ashara has already agreed to let her come with us, and I attacked her, what if she tells someone?” Ned considered her words, as Lyanna knelt to examine the bite marks on the woman’s neck. He was right, she could still feel a faint pulse, she wrapped both hands around her neck as if she was massaging her throat with her thumbs and then quickly snapped her neck, where she got the strength she didn’t know. Ned jumped up from the bed, “Are you mad!? Why—why would you do that?!” He shouted.

“She knew about me, she would be a danger to me or my child, she couldn’t live.” Lyanna said coldly.

Ned was appalled, “The Lyanna I knew would never have acted so hastily or so indifferent.”

“No...the Lyanna you knew died at that tower. I’m something else now, a mother, and I’ll do anything to protect my son,” Lyanna rose and picked her sleeping son up from the cradle holding him tight against her body. “Besides you need a body to convince everyone that I’m dead.”

* * *

When they set sail out into the Summer Sea, Lady Ashara watched them from the tower known as the Palestone Sword. Though she waved, the lady hardly acknowledged it disappearing from the balcony. The ship wasn’t very large but it would do. They had quite the journey ahead of them, from the Summer Sea to the Sunset Sea all the way to the Cape of Eagles.

They spent at least a month at sea, she couldn’t quite keep track of the days as she spent most of her time in the lower decks to avoid the heat and be with her son. She was resigned to the isolation, Ned hadn't spoken a word to her since Starfall, admonishing her for her choice to kill the wet nurse. She could take his silence so long as her and Jacaerys would live safely.

As they passed many islands to the west she could only assume were the Iron Islands and that they were close to their destination. She thought of all that had happened and all that she had to look forward to. Rhaegar said a promised prince grew inside her and she believed it, and she would do anything to see his will live on. She heard a knock on the cabin door that interrupted her thoughts. When the person entered and revealed himself to be her brother, admittedly she was nervous, it was the first time he had sought her out in the entire sail there.

“Lyanna...I know it’s been difficult for you with everything you have faced as it’s been for all of us, I just wanted you to know that you are my sister nothing will change that.” He said, voice just above a whisper.

“And you’re my brother, and he is your nephew. We are family Ned, a pack. I will never forget what you did for us or what you plan to. I know how I acted in Starfall wasn’t the best of me but it was necessary for the safety of our family.” Lyanna retorted.

Ned nodded as he stepped closer, looking at Jacaerys, “He favors you, you know,” he laid a gentle touch on the top of her son’s head. “I would have kept my promise Lya, if you had died and not risen I would have kept him safe, raised him as my own, he has all the looks of a Stark.”

“I still see a bit of Rhaegar in him,” Ned cringed at the statement as he turned his attention back to her. “I hope not too much.”

She chose to ignore his slight, “Will we make land soon? I’m beginning to lose my wits at sea.”

“Soon,” he said. “Just north of Seagard, once we cross the Twins we’ll be in the Neck luckily for us Howland knows his way around.”

When they finally reached land, it was a huge relief to be off the ship but trekking the wetlands annoyed her to no end. Howland said they had no need for horses once they got south of the Twins. Though the causeway was the only dry road to travel through. With only one horse and being a woman with a child her brother and Howland had good enough sense for her to be the one on horseback. The body of the wet nurse wrapped and tied to the back of the horse.

“This’ll do,” Howland said as they came to a sudden stop. Ned took the Jacaerys from her as she jumped down from the horse. She could see Howland off to the side readying the boat that was covered in moss. “I guess this is goodbye,” she said, addressing her brother.

“I guess it is,” he kissed his nephew on the top of his head and handed him back to her and brought her in his embrace and gave her a chaste kiss on top of her head as well. “Winterfell will always be your home,” he assured her. She began to sob thinking of everybody, her father, Brandon, Benjen.

“I’ll miss it dearly, the horseback riding most of all. I’ll be living in a swamp now so there won't be much use for a horse.”

“You’ve always rode like a Northmen and your child will be of the North. I trust Howland with my life, and I trust him with yours and your child.”

“I always wanted to be buried alongside father in the crypts, I know it’s only for the Kings of Winter and the Lord of Winterfell.”

“It’ll be done Lyanna, I don’t know when the next time I will see you but I will remember your face and it’ll be carved in stone in the crypts of Winterfell where you belong.” Howland approached them offering his hand to Ned, “It has been an honor to fight alongside you my Lord” he said. Her brother took it, giving him a firm shake, “The honor was all mine, you saved my life more than once.” With that they separated, as Ned jumped onto the horse and continued on as she, her child and Howland drifted off on the boat into the damp swamp off to find the ever moving castle Greywater Watch.

* * *

283 AC

For the lands around Greywater Watch were treacherous, a swamp filled with fearsome lizard lions and snakes big enough to swallow a man whole. The castle itself sat on a man-made isle that made it nigh impossible for outsiders or even ravens to find. The trees were half-drowned and covered in fungus, and beneath the water, quicksand that would drown anyone who attempts to walk the waters. She had spent the last couple of years raising her son here, though they weren’t the most ideal conditions but she had to make do. Seeing her boy healthy, growing and smiling was enough for her to carry on despite the circumstances. She had to raise her boy on her own, Howland’s Lady wife Jyana certainly helped as she had a daughter of the same age as Jacaerys, maybe they would grow up together and marry one day.

It had been another night at Greywater within the castle it had been much like any other, you could never tell it was constantly moving. With her sense of smell and sound she could hear and feel the motion of the water underneath the isle. It was this night she had heard something different, almost like a commotion which was most unusual as the castle was very much isolated. The noise wasn’t enough to wake the child but it was enough to annoy her as she left her chambers to go check what it was all about.

When she stepped out into the night with only the lamps that hung from the trees to illuminate the surroundings, you could truly see the bogs, though it was called Greywater everything seemed green, from the water, to the moss and the trees. The light and network of brides that surrounded the castle served to make the swamp less treacherous. There she saw Lord Howland Reed standing just outside the castle gate. 

“What’s going on?” Lyanna asked.

“There seems to be two men here but I can’t quite see them but I know they’re here.” Though he was a small man Howland Reed was quite formidable according to her brother Ned. He and she had gotten close over the two years, they had spent many a night trying to explain the magic that brought her back from the dead. He himself wasn’t a stranger to magic, Howland sought to know more about the world and stories that had been passed down. He paddled a small skin boat down the Green Fork and visited the Isle of Faces in search of the green men in his youth, though he didn’t say if he found what he was looking for.

“Show yourselves,” Howland called out.

When she looked off into the distance she saw two hooded figures as they ventured closer, “That’s close enough. Who are you? How did you come to find this place?” He asked the intruders.

“We’re just some stragglers looking for food.” One of them replied.

“That doesn’t explain how you found this place.” Howland said skeptically.

“We smelled smoke, we hoped to chance upon some gracious crannogmen that would maybe invite us into their home for a meal.”

“I’m not sure we have any dishes you’d like, my wife isn't the best cook you see and the swamps don’t provide the best of options.”

“You would turn away starving men, you have less honor than I thought Howland Reed.” One of them chided.

“How do you know my name?” When he asked she saw one of the hooded figures make a quick dash towards them so quick it was almost as if their feet were off the ground. Their hand wrapped around Howland’s neck lifting him off his feet, before she could react the other man grabbed her.

“Unhand me,” she demanded as she elbowed the man who held both of her arms from behind. “We’ve been searching far and wide for you Howland Reed.” She heard the man say. When the first intruder removed his hood, she recognized his face, it was Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning and one of Rhaegar’s Kingsguard and closest friend.

“You were dead.” Howland said in disbelief. “I was and so was he but now we’re not.” The man behind her removed his hood and revealed himself to be Ser Oswell Whent as he let her go.

“And now it is your time to face death but of a permanent kind,” Ser Arthur Dayne whispered. “Do not harm him,” she commanded. As she stepped closer to the legendary knight, “I’ve been an honored guest of this man and he has looked after me and my son for years.”

“Only because he and your brother took that role for themselves after murdering your sworn protectors, my Queen.”

“Yes, I am your Queen and you will do as I command.” Lyanna replied sternly. Ser Arthur let him go as Howland fell to his knees gasping for air.

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

“You all wanted to protect me, wanted what was best for me there’s no reason we cannot live in peace together.” Lyanna reasoned thought the face Ser Oswell wore he seemed to sincerely doubt it.

The Sword of the Morning frowned, “With respect Your Grace this dishonorable craven stabbed me in the back as your brother mauled me in the shape of a wolf.” 

“They thought you were holding me against my will but I’m sure we have much to speak about including how you stand before me, it would be better if we did so inside.” She helped Howland up to his feet and turned to enter the castle.

“We cannot enter unless invited in by the lord of the castle.” Ser Arthur informed them. She looked at Howland who already was shaking his head no. “Invite them in,” she ordered.

“Just a moment ago they were trying to kill me.” Lord Reed reminded her but she did not need it.

“It’s the least you can do after killing them,” she argued. “Now go on.”

“You may enter,” the Lord said as Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell hesitantly passed the threshold of the castle gate 

When they settled down in the hall, it was only her, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent that were seated. The same Kingsguard that had first taken her from the Riverlands on the command of Rhaegar, they were his most loyal and trusted knights.

“He was right about his wife’s cooking,” Ser Oswell commented as he took a bit into his lamprey pie. She only rolled her eyes at the man, doing her best to ignore him turning to Ser Arthur who was always the more serious of two. “We have much to discuss like how are you here? How did you come to find us?” Lyanna asked and she had hundreds of more questions to ask as her mind raced.

“We clawed out of our graves in Dorne,” he explained. “Myself, Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell. Our hands were bloody by the time we were through, but by then you were gone.”   
  
She smiled awkwardly as their experience with resurrection sounded much more traumatic, she couldn’t imagine being buried alive. ”We left in haste,” she clarified. 

“Explains the shallow graves,” Ser Oswell japed, how he could make light of death she did not know.

“Do you know what type of magic this is?” She questioned. The knights looked between each trying to asses if they should divulge more. Ser Arthur bit his lip as he regrettably spoke, “Only what Rhaegar told us, he said that in times of danger that his blood would protect us.”

“So you drank his blood?”

“Yes, we drank his blood, and we haven’t been able to stop since.” Ser Oswell grimly stated.

“I found I have the same problem,” she confessed.

“You died?” Ser Oswell asked. It was still strange to think about, maybe because she hadn’t at all, she had no room to think on the past, she had a child to think about. “In the birthing bed, that’s when Ned found me.”

“But Rhaegar’s child still lives?”

“Yes, Jacaerys lives with me at Greywater Watch.” She said but there was still something that remained unsaid, the one thing from the past that Lyanna could not just look past. “What of his father? She asked. What of Rhaegar?” She knew she sounded desperate but she didn’t care. Both men’s heads fell in disappointment. “We searched for him for almost a year after we left Starfall.”

That admission shocked her, they had told his family he had died just for him return there. “You stopped at Starfall?”

“Yes, your brother had the good sense to leave my family sword there, when my sister told me of your visit we knew you would be safe with him so we set out for Rhaegar.”

“And…”

“Nothing. Only being able to search at nightfall didn’t help but from the Riverlands to Summerhall we looked and listened but found nothing.” Ser Arthur said lowly.

“We did however learn much more on our journey.” Ser Oswell added putting the finish touches on the lamprey pie that he devoured, putting his feet up on the table making himself comfortable.

“Such as?” She pondered aloud. 

“Dragonstone has disappeared from the Blackwater Bay.” Ser Oswell informed her.

”What?” Lyanna barked, as if she did not hear him correctly. “The entire island gone?” 

“Poof,” he said, gesturing with his hands.

“Entire islands just don’t disappear,” she said stating the obvious.

He shrugged. “The common people don’t know what to believe either, all the stories differ, hysteria has spread across the kingdoms.” He leaned in whispering, “Want to hear something more strange.” Ser Oswell posed and Lyanna eagerly nodded like she was a girl again listening to Old Nan’s frightening stories. “Customarily Targaryens are cremated in death, the same fate awaited King Aerys except when morning came his body was gone but there was no ashes.” 

Lyanna sat there perplexed by what she had just heard. “Ser Gerold went in search for the truth and the rest of the royal family. If Rhaegar or the King is out there somewhere, only they can truly explain what what we’ve become.”

“What we’ve become?” Her brows furrowed at him.

“We certainly aren’t human anymore.” Ser Oswell contended.

“Then what are we?”

”I don’t know many humans that feed on blood for survival. Do you?” He asked sarcastically. “We are no more than creatures of the night, the undead, and the only thing that gives us life is blood.”

“And you both learned this on your journey?” Lyanna posed, she was skeptical of Ser Oswell, he was always a bit of an eccentric, she wanted to get Ser Arthur’s measure of it as she looked to him. 

“You’ll find if you haven’t fed long enough that in that hunger, you would take any life if it means to sustain whatever this is if you want to call it living.” Ser Arthur murmured. Lyanna recalled the life she had taken and how ravenous she felt in that moment, how she felt like an animal and acted like one. Lord Reed had called her a beast, and maybe she was, she had taken the life of a woman that was looking after her child. Jacaerys wouldn’t grow to love her if she was simply a beast, she had to be better than that. “I’ve mostly maintained on the blood of animals for the better part of a year, we don’t have to take human life.” Lyanna counseled.

“It is our nature to hunt them.” Ser Oswell said matter-of-factly.

“You’ve killed people?”

“Dozens which beget dozens, they would die just to come back,” he said. She was shaken by this admission, to think there was more of them out there that wouldn’t be able to show the same restraint as her. “Came back like us?”

“Yes, some we had to put down that grew too ravenous but that part seems to be rather complicated.” The intrigue on her face must of have said it all cause Ser Arthur stepped in to explain. “It seems we do not go die as most humans, it seems only an arrow through the heart, decapitation or fire will do the job.”

“And you learned all of that how?”

“The nights grew quite dull, Your Grace with no one to serve.” Ser Oswell answered.

“And you’ve come here to serve me?”

“You are Rhaegar’s wife, we are honor bound to protect you and his child if you would have us and if Rhaegar has truly perished then he is the heir to the Iron Throne.”

“My son has no need for a throne, but without a father he’ll need men like you two to teach him things that a mother cannot.” The Knights unsheathed their swords and knelt before her, “Your Grace, we offer our services once again, to shield your back, and keep your counsel and give our life for yours...again if need be, we swear it by the old gods and the new.”

“And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise.”


	4. Escape from Dragon House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Aerys sets his plans in motion while Daenerys makes plans of her own. Jacaerys sets off on a journey North.

**STORMBORN**  
298 AC

It was just another day at Dragonstone, something she grew accustomed to certainly, it’s all she had known all her life. This should be a special day she thought, you only turn ten-and-six once in your life. By all laws of the land, she reached the age of majority, she was a woman grown despite how everybody else in the castle would treat her. One day they would all see her for what she was, why couldn’t today be the start.

If her dreams meant anything dragons would be the reason, but the only dragons she’d ever seen were stone carvings that decorated Dragonstone. With a dragon everybody would in her family would have no choice but to acknowledge her and they wouldn’t be the only ones. Everywhere she went the people wouldn’t love and worship her, she could be like Good Queen Alysanne or Queen Rhaenyra, the Realm’s Delight, fly all across the known world giving good tidings to all the people while they looked upon her in awe on dragon back. Above all else she wanted to be free and a dragon would definitely give her that. She would be free to go anywhere she pleased, perhaps somewhere beyond the sunset, across the smoking sea or maybe even the narrow sea to Westeros. The land her family yearned to go, a place they often called home but Dany did not remember such a place, all she had known was Dragonstone. Casterly Rock, the Eyrie, Highgarden, Dorne, the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her, carvings on a painted table. All of it, land stolen from her family but she could take it back all on a dragon’s back. Then came a knock at the door interrupting her thoughts, “Come in,” she called out, curious to see who would be the first to acknowledge her name day. When the door opened it was her mother and Visenya that entered.

“Hope we’re not disturbing your sleep little princess,” her niece whispered.

Daenerys rolled her eyes, “I’m not little anymore,” she contended.

Her mother disagreed, “You’ll always be my little princess won’t you sweetling,” she said taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Daenerys’ cheeks reddened from her mother’s words, the love and affection they shared had always been tender, something she could never truly be ashamed of. She gave her mother a gentle smile and they embraced in a hug. “Happy name day Daenerys,” her mother said as they held each other close. “Thank you mother,” she replied.

“Happy name day Dany,” Visenya said as she set some plates down before closing in for a hug of her own. “On your special day you get breakfast in bed.” Dany saw plates of porridge, sausage, boiled egg, lemon cakes frosted in sugar, and sweet biscuits with a mug of iced milk sweetened with honey so she wouldn’t choke. She was squeezed in with Visenya at her back, her mother at her side, and the plates of food balancing on her thighs.

“You’ve outdone yourself my sweet niece, how am I going to eat all of this?” Daenerys asked looking at all the food that was prepared for her. “You’re a woman grown now,” Visenya replied. “Best you eat as much as you can so you can have a body to match.” Daenerys felt the hand of her niece grope her budding breasts through the shift she wore.

“I think I’m done growing,” Daenerys said meekly.

Visenya studied her critically with her hands and eyes. “Mayhaps, though some men might prefer if you were bigger,” she intimated.

“Will you two at least try to behave while I’m here,” her mother said sharply swatting Visenya’s hand away. “And you are a woman grown now Dany, things will be expected of you.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes as she had heard the speech a thousand times, “Yes, yes mother, I will have to further the Targaryen line and the future of our family rests on my shoulders,” she bemoaned. “But my prince charming has yet to reveal himself.” Daenerys added.

Visenya began to laugh, “The boy in your dreams with no face?” Visenya said, her voice laced with cynicism. “Gods to be young again, I remember when I was as naive as you once were. Your flights of fancy always get the better of you, first with the dragons, now mysterious boys with no face.”

“He does have a face,” Daenerys retorted. “It’s just hidden in the shadows, he’ll save me from this castle and show me the world.” Visenya only snorted at her declaration.

“You know what I think? I think you’re jealous,” Dany said.

Visenya scoffed, “Me? Jealous? Your prince charming will be Viserys.” Daenerys imitated a gag, repulsed by the idea of being with her older brother though she loved him she had no intention to be with him in that way.

“Yes, you’ll be doing plenty of that with him.” Visenya remarked though she didn’t quite understand the meaning.

“Will you two stop? There’s nothing wrong with your brother Viserys. You of all people who loves to learn our family’s history know brother and sister being wed is often expected of us.” She admonished. “Me nor your father were fond of one another on our wedding day but we grew to be happy after we had Rhaegar,” her voice softened at the mention of his name.

“It’s not that he’s my brother, it’s because he’s Viserys,” Dany explained. 

Her mother rolled her eyes, “Viserys is a sweet boy and you will be his Queen one day whenever your father decides.”

“I don’t want to be his Queen.” Dany replied solemnly.

“No, but you will do your duty to your family, all you’ve ever talked about is wanting to help, this is how you can,” she said. She reached from behind her and in her hands was her silver crown. “This is a gift from me for your name day, I hope you like it.” Her mother placed the crown on her head. It was heavier than it looked she thought.

“You look very much like a Queen.” Daenerys began to feel her eyes well up with tears before they came into another hug. When they released each other, Daenerys started to feel unsure of herself and her readiness to be a Queen. For all her talks of no longer wanting to be regarded as a child, there was a simplicity there, the same could not be said for a Queen. _A good Queen is always mindful of her duties, her mother would always tell her._

“What about Shaena?” Daenerys asked as her older sister was far more responsible.

Her mother looked at Visenya frowning, “Your sister can’t have anymore children sadly, she’ll have only the one.” She cupped Visenya’s cheek affectionately before rising from the bed. “I must get going, your father has summoned me for a family meeting.”

“Can I come?” Daenerys asked even though she already knew the answer.

“Stay here with Visenya, enjoy your breakfast,” her mother told her.

“So I’m sixteen and yet I still can’t attend family council meetings.” Daenerys responded begrudgingly.

“You can’t attend because we’ll be discussing your father’s surprise gift for your name day if you must know,” she explained. Dany’s face lit up hearing that. “But that’s all I will tell you so rest your pretty little head okay my sweet.” Her mother embraced her once more but this time giving her sixteen smooches on her temple before parting. When the door closed behind her, Visenya began to giggle hysterically. “So when do you plan on escaping this dungeon we call a house?”

Daenerys smiled cheekily, “I’d like to see what my father gets me first,”

“Do you actually want anything?” Visenya asked.

Daenerys thought for a second, wondering what could even be plausible that the family would having a meeting in secrecy about it. _Her family loved secrets._ “My freedom comes to mind,” Dany replied as she began to eat her breakfast starting with the sausage, egg and biscuits. Visenya started to help herself to the food as well, “I’m sure your father has something else entirely different in mind, you are his favorite.” Dany could hear the slight resentment in her voice.

“You don’t like my father do you?” She asked bluntly.

“I think it’s the other way around,” Visenya somberly stated taking a bite of sausage.

“I know my father isn’t the most cheerful person,” she started before she was interrupted with a laugh. “That’s one way to put it,” her niece commented. Daenerys chose to ignore her and finish her sentiment. “But I know he loves his family.”

“You most of all, which is why he shields you away from what he really is,”

Daenerys looked at her niece knowingly and couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed, “An entire family of blood suckers, you would think they’d learn to hide it better,” she said. “And to think they meant to keep it secret from me.” Dany huffed.

“I’m sure they had their reasons,” Visenya replied. 

You should feel more insulted than me,” she argued, pointing her half eaten sausage at Visenya, “And your father isn't the most cheerful man either.” Daenerys remarked.

“I wonder where he got it from.” Visenya quipped, her voice filled with sarcasm.

Daenerys only rolled her eyes, continuing to stuff her face. “They’re all liars. They take me for some naive little girl that’ll believe any story they tell me but I’m sixteen not an idiot.” Dany said, her mouth full of porridge.

“Eating with your mouth full isn’t very lady like.” Visenya scolded.

With that Daenerys handed off the plates to Visenya and stood from the bed, “Be that as it may, I’ll escape this castle one way or another.”

“And if you encounter a stonemen by chance?” Visenya questioned. Daenerys sucked her teeth dismissively, “Those are just stories to scare us and keep us here. If you’re scared you can put those back in the kitchen and I’ll listen in on the rest of the family while I plan my escape.”

When Daenerys opened the door to leave she was met by a surprise, the red priestess Melisandre standing in the doorway. “Is that wise princess?” Lady Melisandre asked. Dany took a couple steps back retreating into the room as Melisandre let herself in and closed the door behind her. “Waking stonemen from their sleep when you can wake dragons from stone instead.”

Though she wasn’t scared of the woman there was something about her that made her uneasy, she was clouded in mystery with power beyond her understanding. “Did my father send you?” Daenerys asked.

“No princess, I come bearing gifts.” The red woman presented a choker very similar to her own, golden in color with a blood red ruby in the center before placing it in Daenerys’ hands. She looked at it skeptically, not knowing want to make it of it except that it was beautiful. “It’s wonderful, thank you,” she murmured. Daenerys went back to her bed where Visenya still sat, giving her the choker so she could put it on. Her niece brushed her hair to one side, holding as she attached the choker around her throat. The red priestess from Asshai slowly approached them, her hands folded in front of her deep burgundy dress, her top showing just enough cleavage that usually left her brothers leering, eager to see the full shape of her breasts. “A great gift requires a great sacrifice,” she said cryptically.

Daenerys looked up at her, “What would you have me sacrifice?” she questioned.

“Yourself,” the red woman replied. The answer was no answer at all, it only served to leave Daenerys confused and slightly agitated, “I’m not very fond of riddles,” she told her.

“It’s no riddle princess, you wish to leave this island but you never will as Daenerys Stormborn but as someone else you can,” said the Lady Melisandre. Her words did little to clarify anything. _How did she know her intention to leave the island. What did she hope to gain from this._ “Why are you helping me?” She asked the red woman.

She paced around the room till she came to a stop, gazing at the fire that still burned in the hearth before addressing her, “I believe you have a role to play when darkness falls heavy on the world and stars bleed from the sky.”

“You speak a lot of darkness but worship the Lord of Light,” Daenerys considered. Lady Melisandre smiled feebly, “The night is dark and full of terrors, only the Lord of Light can show us the way,” she replied, her voice flaring.

“And you serve him with magic? I thought the gods hate magic,” she said, raising her doubts.

“There are only two gods, one of light, love and joy and another of darkness, evil and fear. R'hllor is the Lord of Light, and has given to his servants magic to weave with it, as others weave with thread. Call it what you will whether it be glamor, sorcery, or illusions but with whispered words and prayer, a man's shadow can be drawn forth from such and draped about another like a cloak. The wearer's essence does not change, only his seeming. A shadow can only be seen in the presence of both light and dark.” Daenerys took in the priestess’ ramblings, she was not a follower of the Lord of Light nor was she as a devout follower of the Seven. She did however believe what she saw with her own eyes, and recalled back to all that she has seen over the years though her family tried to hide it. “I’ve seen Shiera use similar magic.”

Melisandre stepped ever closer, first eyeing Visenya then her, then the choker. “She has her tricks and I have mine,” she stated simply. It was Visenya who spoke now, “How would it work? When will she know?”

Lady Melisandre reached for the ruby, running her fingers along the gem, ”It’s glowing,” Visenya observed. The red priestess nodded, “You will feel its warmth against your skin, the closer you are to me, the stronger the magic. It may grow so hot it may feel as though you have swallowed flames,” she said in warning. She was sure the Lady Melisandre was testing her strength when she began to feel heat emitting from the ruby though it did not expose her to any heat she hadn’t felt in her baths or in the Dragonmount. She might have been small like Visenya had remarked and she probably would never yield a sword like her niece’s namesake either but she did have an inner strength, a fire that burned inside her. “I’ve known men to die, whose throats blackened and filled with smoke,” the Lady Melisandre said lastly, her red eyes meeting her own.

But she was blood of the dragon, Dany thought. “Fire cannot kill a dragon,” she replied calmly.

**DRAGONEYE**

They were all walking into the belly of the beast, the Great Hall was carved in the shape of a huge dragon lying on its belly, the doors set in the mouth and those entering must pass through it. The throne his father sat on was not as imposing as the Iron Throne in King’s Landing but he looked a force all the same.

As they all gathered around in the hall waiting for his father to address his small council, a sorry excuse for one but one nonetheless though the proper titles for all the gathered had never been established. Who would be his father’s hand he wondered, not since Tywin Lannister could any man say they held the position for more than a year. The White Bull still held his title of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, though the Ser Barristan was considered wiser and the better fighter of the two. They had no coin or ships, so there was no need for a master of either. Master of whisperers on the other hand, no doubt many would think Shiera Seastar to be it as the silver haired temptress was always at his side whispering to him, she had his ear above all else, even his mother and where did the Lady Melisandre fit in. Mayhaps the red woman deserved the position, she already claimed to hear whispers from the flames. Something about his father attracted these mysterious women to him, they both claim to only want to serve him but they only serve to slight his mother. The truth of it all is that he wanted to be his father’s hand, his Lord Commander, the one he trusted above all.

Then his father finally spoke to address the gathered his voice was boisterous, “When they write the history of my reign and conquest they will say it began today. Baratheon, Stark, Lannister, Tully, Arryn, they all waged war against us and fled us from our home and now it’s time we paid them back tenfold.”

“How do we do that?” Daeron asked curiously.

“The only way Targaryens know how, with fire and blood. Nine years ago you all counseled me to stay my hand, that we did not have the means to wage war against the Seven Kingdoms well hear me now when I say all that has changed.” He boasted. 

“What’s changed?” Shaena asked, “Apart from us being murderous predators that is.” His wife had a way of always being the first one to speak out against their father, as she was the oldest, she was the most defiant much to his chagrin. Their father only glared at her before continuing, “I’ve received word of some dragon eggs in Pentos belonging to a magister by the name of Illyrio Mopatis, I would send one of you along with Ser Barristan to procure them for Daenerys for her name day.”

All the gathered seemed confused, what did one have to do with the other. “For Daenerys?” his younger brother Jaehaerys questioned, his brows furrowed.

“Her name day is today,” Shaena reminded him. “I know the concept of time maybe a strange thing to as you never leave leave castle but Pentos is atleast a full moon’s turn away, then another moon’s turn back. I don’t think Daenerys will care for a gift two moons late.” 

Their father dismissed that notion with a wave of his hand, “Yes the gift will be late but do you think she’ll complain when she’s holding them?” He argued. ”Think of it, her birth marked the end of our family’s reign in King’s Landing, it would be fitting as she becomes a woman that she ushers in a new period, one where dragons roam the skies again raining fire upon our enemies.”

“So you mean to hatch these eggs? If I recall it didn’t go well for the last King who tried,” said Aegon who was ironically named for the last king who did try to bring dragons back into the world, Aegon V, father’s grand sire.

“Luckily for us we cannot burn,” he said staunchly. If his father was worried that another Tragedy at Summerhall might occur, he did not show it. Their mother on the other hand was another matter entirely. Her worry was clear as day on her face, though he questioned it she would voice it. Her soft spoken nature, she would never openly defy father in court even if she thought this idea of his mad. Much to his surprise his mother did speak, “Daenerys is not like the others,” his mother reminded him though he did not need it and he was quick to tell her. 

“I think I know my daughter well enough to know what she is and what she isn’t,” he snarled, making his mother bow her head as if she should be ashamed for speaking her peace. Dragoneye’s fist clenched at his sides at the sight as his father continued to speak, “And she will know when she sees the fires die out around her that her father had faith in her as I foresaw in flames.”

Dragoneye stood there in disbelief, his father spoke of faith and all of it was placed into a half-cocked idea that would have Daenerys walk into a fire because he saw it in the flames. He sounded like a fanatic, except he had only found religion after a fire priestess came into his service and his bed. _Had_ _he finally gone mad? Or_ _perhaps he already was, he had long earned the name in Westeros._ “So you would have your youngest daughter die trying to hatch some eggs cause some witch claimed to see it the flames?”

”Not some witch, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes,” his father replied. Dragoneye only scoffed, no matter how many nightfires he had attended he would never be a follower of R’hllor.

“I can’t speak to any flames but this plot to hatch dragon eggs does seem a bit absurd,” Aegon started but he was soon interrupted by the appearance of the Lady Melisandre. All eyes shifted from Aegon to the red priestess including his own as she walked into the throne room to take her place beside his father. Admittedly the woman had a presence about her, from her red eyes and hair, her pale unblemished skin, and full breasts made eyes stick to her in whatever room she occupied. When Aegon finally found his tongue he continued, “I can’t fault Dragoneye for his doubts nor can I fault father for finding religion in his old age,” he finished.

His father’s gaze turned to him. “Dragoneye? Gods what a stupid name,” he sneered. “Did a seven year old give it you? You are no dragon Ser or did the bastard you call daughter trick you to think otherwise.” His father’s words cut him deep, and if he was any other man he would have surely struck him dead, but the last time he had raised a hand against his father he had earned the name Dragoneye.

“Does it give you great pleasure to shame me?” Dragoneye asked.

His father simply shrugged, “There’s nothing else to do in this godforsaken place.”

“Oh there’s plenty, you just lack the desire,” Dragoneye retorted. “Killing all your children on the other hand, that you seem anxious of.” His father sat there stone-faced for a moment as the room grew quiet before he began to slowly clap his hands. “This one’s got balls, it’s why he’s my favorite,” he said loudly. “Daenerys will not be the only one receiving a gift, fore I have one for Robert Baratheon as well that I’d like you my son to personally give him.”

Dragoneye was intrigued by the prospect, “What shall I be giving the usurper?”

“Fire and blood.” He declared. ”This is why I’m in such agreement with this Lord of Light given our house words, a fire god that requires blood sacrifices, I’m thankful for the Lady Melisandre for showing me the light.”

Melisandre smiled bashfully before bowing. “You are the Lord’s chosen, I only did as I was bid,” she said. “All that I have shown you would not be possible without the power the Lord gave me but you, power flows through your veins, there is power in King’s blood and you are the king.”

“That I am,” he said firmly. “Daeron, my son and Ser Gerold, my Lord Commander, you will go to King’s Landing and set the Kingswood aflame then you will kill and turn the villagers,” he pronounced nodding to Ser Gerold who cleared his throat before speaking.

“The villagers will then turn more common folk in their blood rage until it’ll be on the usurper to do something about it, there we will seize an opportunity. The King is said to hunt often in the Kingswood but this time he will be the hunted,” Ser Gerold said gruffly.

“So you would have us be like the Iron Islanders raiding shores?” Shaena questioned.

Exacerbated by the line of questioning, their father exhaled heavily before slouching on the throne, his head laid in the palm of his hands. “You don’t have to do anything, you’re a woman. You will stay behind with your mother and sister and knit by the fire or whatever it is that you do around here.” He huffed.

“If I may speak father, I’d like to go to Pentos to retrieve the dragon eggs.” Viserys proposed. 

“Viserys you...“ his father stopped short, trying to pick his next words carefully.

“Surely you’re not thinking of sending Daenerys there,” said his youngest brother.

“Of course not, Daenerys will stay here with the rest of the women, she is too precious to be corrupted by the world. I may have died but I haven’t lost my mind.”

“The princess has been having dragon dreams since she was a child, if House Targaryen is to ever wake dragons from stone she will be the one,” Melisandre asserted.

“And you’re certain to have seen this in the flames.” Jaehaerys asked again.

“You doubt the Lord’s power? Wasn’t it I that foretold you of the Lannister ship that would dare sail the smoking sea and now we have a slave solely devoted to furthering the designs of your house.”

“All I needed was men loyal to me still for the chance to come into my throne once again, Ser Lewyn tells me the treasons of Rhaegar’s progeny in Dorne while Gerion Lannister will continue to be the bane of Lord Tywin’s existence,” said his father.

“I thought that was the imp,” Aegon pondered aloud.

“For a time, the gods saw fit to teach him some humility for that dwarf to be his heir. I know him better than any man and I know how prideful he is. He had always wanted a Valyrian steel sword back in the family a shame the one they have is cursed for any that may wield it, I made sure Shiera saw to that.”

“I live to please my King,” the temptress said bowing before him, showing her cleavage that he was sure his father noticed, the woman had no shame, even in front of his mother.

“But why would Ser Lewyn betray his own blood for you?” Shaena questioned.

”I am his blood as I am his sire and his King. The life he lives he owes to me, Lewyn Martell could not deny me even if he wanted to,” their father replied as he stood up. “So if you’re all done flapping your gums, at first light you set sail for Dorne where Daeron and Ser Gerold will travel to King’s Landing from there and Viserys and Ser Barristan will continue on to Pentos for the dragon eggs. There after you will reconvene in Myr where the Golden Company was last seen, and see if they would actually like backing the winning side for a change, whatever their answer you will return here with an army, do you understand?”

They all nodded except for the ones that were not involved in father’s plans, including his two middle brothers. “Father are you sure someone like Viserys can handle all of this? Jaehaerys asked.

”What is that supposed to mean?” Viserys hissed.

“Negotiating with sellswords, procuring dragon eggs, it all sounds more appropriate for an elder brother.” Jaehaerys reasoned.

“I know Myr, I know sellswords, perhaps I could accompany them as well.” Aegon added.

“The last time you were in Myr you slaughtered an entire wedding if I remember correctly.” Dragoneye recalled.

“Aegon!” his mother shouted, clearly disapproving of his reprehensible behavior.

“I will keep the boys in order, Your Grace.” Ser Barristan Selmy promised.

“I spared the bride, I’m not some sort of savage, and by all the laws of the land she was no man’s wife as the marriage was not consummated... and in my defense it was not that long after father got the bright idea to snap all of our necks.”

“What was her name?” Dragoneye asked.

“I don’t remember but she was a shapely woman, almost as shapely as Shiera but not quite. I do remember her husba—her intended I mean, a bumbling oaf, a Lord Merryweather the grandson to father’s former hand I believe.”

“Taena,” Jaehaerys said suddenly.

“Yes that’s it! Taena with the great big tits, I wonder if she’s still in Myr.”

Their father stared at his younger brothers, not the least bit amused, “What do I care if you all go, just bring me those damned eggs and an army.” He said coldly, “Now if we’re through I’m going to make love to your mother.”

Repulsed by their father’s boldness his siblings fled the hall, rushing to pack their things for their respective journeys likely. “Daeron,” his father called, when he approached him his father put his hand on his shoulder, his long nails still a constant reminder as they rested on his chest. “Remember that I only maimed you to keep you from suffering the same fate as Rhaegar, I loved your brother but he was a fool that questioned me at every turn and look where it got him, where it got us. And I killed you so would not have to suffer that mark against your honor, your eye healed and you’ve become a better man for it, make your father proud and I may reconsider your position.” With that his father walked past him, and then followed his mother till the hall was empty.

He had wandered the castle for a few hours before returning to the room to pack his things for the tomorrow. They had quite the journey ahead of them and his father had entrusted him with so much, he did not want to disappoint. While he was packing, he saw Visenya enter the room. She was standoffish, staying near the door almost as if she was scared. “What’s wrong sweet girl?” He asked his daughter.

“Mother said you’re leaving.”

“I’m afraid I am, I’ll try to be back as soon as I can.”

“Can I come?” Visenya asked.

“It’s too dangerous for you to come Visenya.”

“Not with you, but with uncle Viserys and the others,” she retorted. “I thought you didn’t like him.” Daeron said.

“I don’t, I just want to leave this castle, I...I don’t want to be like Daenerys locked away here, never seeing the world.”

“So you would leave Daenerys here by herself?” He asked.

“She won’t be alone, she’ll have grandmother, the King and mother here,” she reasoned.

“Speaking of your mother, did you ask her?” He saw the girl smile, almost as if she knew he was conceding. “She said yes,” she quickly replied.

“Well if your mother says yes, I guess it’s okay,” Next thing he knew Visenya ran into his arms giving him a hug, “Thank you, thank you, thank you Daeron...I mean father.”

Though he was confused she would call him by his name, his mind focused on how tight and warm her hug was and how it filled him with joy, she might not be his daughter, but he loved her all the same.

**THE WHITE WOLF**

When he lifted his eyes there had stood a wall of ice, the tallest wall he had ever seen, so tall it was as if you could touch the sun if you stood atop of it. The sun beamed down on the horizon radiantly, with the wall shining like a blue crystal beneath it. But beyond it, past the wall where there were endless forest cloaked in snow, frozen shores and great blue-white rivers of ice and dead plains where nothing grew there was no such sun only a star that bled through the night sky. North and north and north he went, to the heart of winter, where his skin grew pale and all sense of warmth had long fled from him in search of the bleeding star. He trekked the cold depths of the frozen wasteland, beyond the curtain of light till he came upon where the star seemingly landed only to find in its place, a tree on fire that did not burn up. He ventured closer to the strange sight eying a face that was carved into the stump of the tree, a face with bleeding eyes. The flames burned bright, making the tree glow but stump remained bone white and did not blacken and leaves blood red and not ash. 

There he heard a voice echoing, “Look for me,” it said. He searched the surroundings to find he was alone save for a flying crow.

”Look for me,” he heard again, a voice off in the distance.

“Underneath the heart tree,” the voice said this time barely above a whisper but it was as if the person was right next to him. _The heart tree._ When he eyed the burning tree once more he remembered the stories his mother told him of the First Men and how they prayed to trees with faces carved in them. For the first weirwood he had ever seen it was quite a sight, and he was not the only one to take notice, dozens of crows began flying overhead, cawing. _He could even hear a wolf howling._

As he watched the fire flicker and sway in the wind, it still burned bright. He could feel it’s fire from where he stood, the heat burning his cheeks, so he trotted to the river to fetch a drink. When came upon the river, he spied his reflection and saw he was in the shape of a wolf, in a wolf’s skin, a white wolf with red eyes, his long pink tongue panting licking at the water after traveling such a distance north. He lapped at the water with his heavy tongue till he was sated and when eyed himself in the ice cold water once more, he noticed a different set of eyes staring back at him, which startled him. One of lilac, then cold blue ones and bleeding red ones. When he returned his attention to the tree, it had no longer been burning, the trunk and leaves were as black as the crows that now littered it.One by one they flew from the tree cawing at him, the first one landing on his shoulder, the next one landing on his head, till they all were flocking around him, three eyed crows surrounding him, poking at him while he howled. The next thing he knew he was startled awake by his mother who continuously shook him. “Jacaerys,” she whispered.

“I’m up,” he said.

“It’s supper time, you should stop taking these late naps, they’re not good for you.”

“There’s nothing else to do,” Jace bemoaned. Living at Greywater wasn’t the least bit of fun, he dare say he hated it. He grew up hunting, fishing, climbing trees for fun but those could only keep him occupied for so long. There was no maester, or master at arms. Only his mother, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur made the place tolerable, everything he knew he owed to them. All the training he had gotten was from the knights but when they went off somewhere for days he was stuck with the likes of Meera and Jojen, Lord Reed’s children. Though she wasn’t a maester all that he had known was from his mother, she always told him stories of the last before bed. He looked at her, she was his mother but she didn’t look a day older than Meera.

“I had another dream,” he murmured as he sat up on the bed. With a look of concern on her face, she sat next to him and pulled him into her embrace, where he rested his head on her chest to put his mind at ease. His mother twirled a finger in his hair, playing in his shoulder length hair. “What did you see?” She asked.

“I saw the wall, I saw a white wolf...but the wolf was me,” he tried to explain knowing how strange he must sound. “Then there was this shooting star.”

“Like the sigil of House Dayne?” He nodded his head against her bosom. “I saw red eyes, blue eyes and purple eyes watching me, a crow calling to me, I don't know what any of it means.” Jacaerys said softly. She brushed her hand through his hair, massaging his scalp.

“It may not mean anything, dreams are confusing, sometimes they have meaning and sometimes they don’t. Your father had dreams, he said they were like visions to him. You wouldn’t be the first Stark or Targaryen to see such things.”

Jacaerys was flustered, “But how do I know? He keeps calling me, telling me to find him.”

“Who?” She asked as she lifted his head so he could look at her.

“The voice, it could have been the tree or the crows, I’m not sure.”

“I remember when I use to dream I was a horse,” she said, her tone condescending before giving into a giggle. 

“This is serious,” he said, his voice stern as he stood up from the bed. At his core he knew the dream meant something, it may not have been a vision but something or someone was trying to tell him something.“You always do this, act like I’m some child having a fanciful dream.”

“You are a child, my child, my sweet boy,” she retorted, trying to grab his hand to pull him back to her but he snatched his hand away. ”I am a man grown,” Jacaerys growled before storming out.

When he reached the great hall, the Reeds were already gathered along with the knights Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell, they were the closest thing he had to family. Knowing the Reeds they would probably take offense if he didn’t see them as such as they had known him his whole life, seen him grow to become a man. All that they were, they were not Targaryen nor Stark. “We almost started eating without you.” Ser Oswell said when he saw his approach. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jacaerys replied taking his seat at the table. 

“I’m very serious prince you may be royalty but it’s one of the rare nights we don’t have to subject ourselves to eating snakes.” Ser Oswell replied.

Jacaerys looked at his plate, examining it with his fork, “Is eel much better?” Ser Oswell only grinned before stuffing his mouth with all that he had stuck with his fork then washed it all down with his drink. “Everything is better after a cup of ale,” he contended. Soon after his mother made her into the hall as well, taking a seat at her normal place beside him.

“You have spinach, chickpeas, and turnip greens. Good for a growing boy at your age,” said Lady Jyana. He played with the chickpeas for a time before taking some of the greens into his mouth. 

“Jacaerys has quite a bit of growing left,” alleged his mother. “Rhaegar was...”

“I think I’ve grown tired of hearing about a man I never met,” he snapped, still seething from their prior conversation. 

“Is that anyway to speak to your mother?” Ser Arthur asked.

“It’s quite alright Arthur,” his mother said. 

The knight shook his head, “No, it’s not,” Ser Arthur retorted. The Sword of the Morning was right, everything was not alright, it annoyed him to no end how they tried to pretend like it was just as Ser Arthur tried to pretend to be a father to him but he was not, his father was dead, along with the rest of the Targaryens or that’s what they would have him believe. He always felt they only told him half truths but when he told them his own truth they dismissed it as if he was a child.

“Jacaerys, have I ever told you about the night I met your mother?” Lord Reed said suddenly.

“Only about a half dozen times,” Jacaerys snickered, Lord Reed smiled and laughed. “It was at Harrenhal,” he started. “Ser Oswell’s family home at the time.”

“Wasn’t much of a home seeing as it was cursed and burnt to a crisp,” the knight added darkly. Jacaerys had heard that story more than the one Lord Reed meant to tell. All the houses that had held Harrenhal since Harren the Black all went extinct including House Hoare when Aegon the Conqueror came to Westeros, he didn’t need a maester to know that story.

“See I had never met the Starks before even though my family was sworn to them. I was just a curious boy as I had just left the Isle of Faces, I walked across the tourney field where I was set upon by three squires all younger than me but taller. Then your mother came to my rescue she chased them all away with nothing but a tourney sword. After, she brought me to her tent, where I met her three brothers, Brandon, Ned, and Benjen. She insisted I come with them to attend the feast held that evening that marked the start of the tourney. When we came across the three squires who had attacked me earlier, Benjen offered to me a horse and armor to regain my honor, but I couldn’t. I was never trained on horse or with a sword at Greywater Watch, I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. So that night I prayed at the God's Eye to the old gods.” said Lord Reed. Jacaerys had heard this story often as well but it almost always changed over the years with the new bits and pieces, he wondered if the Lord started to embellish the events.

“It was that night I also met your father,” his mother divulged. “He sung and played the harp, making every girl swoon including myself. I cried as all my brothers made fun of me,” she said. Jacaerys had never heard that part of the story.

“Father could sing?” He asked curiously. His mother nodded as Howland continued with the story. ”The next day of jousting a short mystery knight, called the Knight of the Laughing Tree, entered the joust and challenged the three knights whose squires had attacked me. The terms were who ever won must give the winner the horse and armor. When each of the three knights were defeated, the mystery knight only asked that the knights teach their squires honor instead taking their property. The small folk cheered heavily for the mysterious Knight of the Laughing Tree and that knight was secretly…”

“My mother, yes, I know Lord Reed.” Jacaerys said sharply.

“He doesn’t believe that I was great on horse,” his mother said.

He snorted, “I’ve never even seen a horse.” 

She shrugged,“Well I was good at riding one, I loved it,” his mother said. She would always talk of how she spent more time in the stables than she did knitting. “Some even said I was half a horse myself,” she bragged.

“Didn’t Prince Rhaegar win the joust?” Meera asked.

“That he did, he unhorsed me in the round before last,” answered Ser Arthur before turning his attention to Jacaerys. “When he finally won he crowned your mother the queen of love and beauty, placing a crown of winter roses on her lap.”

“I love hearing about people I will never get to meet the Starks, the Targaryens they sound wonderful truly,” he snipped.

“My Prince, there’s a reason why you can’t see them it’s for your own good.” Ser Arthur reasoned.

“When do I get to decide what’s good for me, I’m a man grown now yet you all treat me as if I’m child. I can’t even drink ale to wash this food down,” he complained tossing his fork down.

“Jacaerys wants to go beyond the wall,” his mother informed them.

Lord Reed was taken aback by his mother’s words, maybe even insulted. “What is there for you beyond the wall?” Lord Reed asked.

“A voice telling him to come find him he says,” his mother said in a mocking tone.

“It’s true,” Jacaerys insisted knowing how it might sound to the others. ”I’m not mad or making any of this up.” The looks on their faces said that they didn’t believe him, that changed when Jojen spoke unexpectedly. “You’ve seen the three eyed crow,” Jojen said lowly. Jacaerys turned to Lord Reed’s son, a boy of few words.

“You’ve seen them too? What does it all mean?” Jacaerys asked the boy.

“It’s the sight,” he said. “Green dreams, dreaming of things that haven’t happened yet.” Jojen explained.

“Like Daenys the Dreamer," Meera added. Jacaerys hung on to every word the Reeds said. He had heard of dragon dreams before but not green dreams. Daenys the Dreamer had a dream that saved House Targaryen from the Doom of Valyria but that was thousands of years ago. “I know it’s hard to believe I just get this feeling,” he said quietly searching the faces of the people at the table until he reached his mother’s whose face remained uneasy.

“Even if I wanted to believe you, what good would it do me. I have to protect you as your mother. It wouldn’t be safe for you if you left Greywater Watch, your father,” she stopped short trying to keep her composure. “He had dreams too, it made him do things that not everybody would understood.”

“But you say I have all this family that I’ve never met, why wouldn’t they protect me,” Jacaerys questioned.

She exhaled heavily, “Because you are your father’s son, he is not remembered fondly.”

Jacaerys could tell she wasn’t being completely honest, all the stories he heard of his father, they spoke of him fondly why would it be different anywhere else. “You’re not telling me everything, I just want to know the truth.”

“I say let the boy go.” Ser Oswell said suddenly. “What’s the harm in letting him go? He’s a Northmen, and every Northmen should at least see the wall once.”

His mother threw her hands hands up exasperated by the suggestion. “You’re supposed to protect him as well. This isn’t just the wall, it would be all of the North and you of all people should know how much the North hates Targaryens,” his mother argued.

“And I would protect him, as would Ser Arthur.” Ser Oswell assured her. “And besides the boy doesn’t have the look of a Targaryen,” he reasoned.

“I am a man,” Jacaerys corrected.

“You’re as green a boy as the bogs that surround castle.” Ser Oswell sneered, which garnered a laugh from around the table.

”Ser Arthur, what do you say to this madness?” His mother asked.

The Sword of the Morning sighed, “If it is the prince’s will to go North I would follow and protect him but only if I have your leave.”

“If you’re serious about this Jacaerys I will go with you, I’m your mother after all, it’s my duty to watch over you.” She rasped while staring at him, he nodded to her confirming his intent.

”It’s beginning to sound like an adventure,” Ser Oswell said excitedly.

“Can we go with them?” Meera asked her father.

“I don’t think these knights would be fond of children following them, besides it could prove to be dangerous.” Lord Reed said as he put an arm around his daughter. Short and slim with long brown hair knotted behind her head. She had green eyes and small breasts, the only girl he’d seen his whole life besides his mother and her own. He would be lying if he didn’t want her to accompany them. “If you’re planning on going that far North, you’ll obviously have to pass through Moat Cailin, I think it’s only fair you should know your brother Brandon rules there.” Lord Reed added.

“Rules? Moat Cailin is a ruin,” his remarked.

Lord Reed shrugged, “It’s said he spends half his time between there and Barrowton, he’s intent on restoring it and protecting the North from there.”

“So if we happen to make it past Moat Cailin we’d only have to deal with more Starks by the time we reach Winterfell.” Ser Arthur complained.

His mother rubbed her temple as if the prospect concerned her. “I haven’t seen my family in long…”

“Can we mother? Please,” he begged. “I can’t spend another day spearing lizard lions, no offense Lord Reed.”

“None taken, it’s been our honor to have you and your mother in our home for this long.” Lord Reed quickly replied holding his lady wife’s hand.

”And I thank you for the hospitality you have shown us for seventeen years,” his mother said. The Lord of Greywater Watch only smiled.

“Then what are we all waiting for, let’s get a beat on the sun and escape this wretched place.” Ser Oswell said bluntly. With that they all rose up from their seats and decided they would travel farther north than he had ever been to find the three eyed crow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in a manner of speaking this is the beginning of the story. I’m a Jonerys shipper through and through so the obvious is that they’re endgame and their relationship will become a focal point of the story but I’ll be upfront in saying I’m not quite sure when they’ll meet. I do know how and under what circumstances they do but it’s just hard to gauge how much story will happen before then. Though I do believe their separate journeys finding themselves before finding each other will be fairly entertaining.


	5. Two Weddings, Two Rebellions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haunting demons of the past.

**RHAEGAR**  
277 AC

There had been two weddings in a fortnight, two weddings befitting princes. Four souls intertwined with one another though not of their choosing. These weren’t normal circumstances he thought, the groom shouldn’t be scurrying away from his marriage bed but here he was. Though he considered himself a man of high morals admittedly there was nothing honorable about what he was doing, or rather what he meant to do.

Elia Martell was beautiful, slender, gentle and sweet, any man would be happy to be with her, to lay with her and lay with her he did. The timid girl she no longer was behind closed doors, she seemed very eager to bed her lord husband. The flashes were hot, almost as hot as her cunt was, their coupling was intense. Everything they said about the Dornish seemed to be true, there was no shame then as she allowed him to explore her body. She rode him ferociously, their hips in junction with one another chasing their own ends. She egged him on time and time again to plant his seed in her and he could not deny her, part of him didn’t want to. She gave everything she had to give and took everything he offered as any dutiful wife would but here was abandoning her on their wedding night because he did not love her. In the world they lived in many did not marry for love, princes even more. For all that Elia was, she was not Shaena, she was not the doe eyed Targaryen princess that carried his child. She was the reason he was betraying the vow he swore in front of gods and me, why he crept through Maegor’s Holdfast light footed.

When he reached her room, he did not bother to knock as he slipped passed the small opening. He had spent many a night in this room, he was quite accustomed to the surroundings, from the books that laid untouched by the candle light, the vanity table that stood right next to it, the wool purple curtains that covered the windows. As he took in the surroundings he saw her form identifiable under the covers. She was faced away from the door so he quickly went by her bedside to take a knee and observe her closer. The candle light next to the bed flickered but her face was still clear as day, she looked so peaceful sleeping, he almost did not want to disturb her. He rubbed a thumb on her cheek gently, caressing her smooth skin. Her eyes opened and she greeted him with a radiant smile, “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Rhaegar replied. Shaena rose up on one arm to sit up on the bed, a strap of her gown down revealing one of her breast before she pulled it back up.

“I thought maybe you rather enjoyed your night with your wife and forgot all about me.”

“I could never...” he started before she interrupted his thought

“Enjoy it?” Shaena asked, her voice laced with contempt. Rhaegar could only dip his head in shame as he could not and would not lie to her. “What would you have me say?”

“The truth,” she simply replied. “She is quite beautiful and Dornish, all we ever heard about the Dornish is how hot-blooded and sexually licentious they are. Is it true.”

He stood up from where he was kneeled, turning away from her rubbing his temple in frustration. “What do you want from me?” 

“I want you to tell me if you fucked her,” his sister hissed.

His shoulders slumped, “I did my duty to my family.” Rhaegar said quietly. He faced her then, searching her face to gauge her reaction but it gave little away as well as he knew her, he could not tell if she was upset but how could she be anything but.

“I’m your family, your sister, your child grows inside me. What is your duty to me?” Shaena pondered aloud.

“It’s not that simple,” he argued.

“And you’ve come here tonight for what? To lay with me?” Shaena posed, throwing her arms up in disbelief. “Will this become a routine, you come and find me after you’ve grown tired of fucking your wife?”

He grew annoyed by what she was implying, as if he was some philandering wretch. “It’s not like that.” Rhaegar growled.

“Then what is it like Rhaegar?” Shaena asked.

“You act as if I wanted this,“ he said loudly. “As if I wanted to see you married to Daeron. For my child to grow up and not know me as their father. You laid with me just a fortnight ago on your wedding night, and we made a promise to not stray from one another despite the circumstances. What’s changed?”

“Everything has changed!” She shouted, almost loud enough to wake the Red Keep. 

“You judge me for laying with my wife but tell me sweet sister is Daeron as good with a sword as he always goes on about.”

“I did not lay with Daeron nor have I invited him into my bed as you can see.”

“You carry my child inside you, I’d hope our brother has enough sense not to dishonor you in such a manner.”

Her head dipped in shame, her eyes fixated on her swollen belly. “But what happens when I choose to lay with him or he demands it of me, when our marriage is consummated and we become husband and wife,” his sister croaked. He could tell she was struggling to say the words but she carried on, “This can no longer continue, you’ll go to Dragonstone and I’ll be left behind in King's Landing to suffer father’s ire.”

When he saw the tears in her eyes it made him weak, weak enough that he fell to his knees again, almost crawling to her, not wanting to see her in this manner. “I know many things may have changed but the one constant is what I feel for you Shaena, my desire to be with you. It pains me to know our love is forbidden, that the demons of this family still haunt us, that those who call themselves pious would name us abominations, perversions against the gods, I do not know what the future holds but I can’t see one without you.”

The crown prince then held her face in both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs, “One thing is for certain, I will do anything to protect this family from harm so if I must confine myself to Dragonstone and be in a loveless marriage then that is what I will do and I do love you Shaena and I will love this child, that you must never doubt,” he said placing a hand over her own that laid upon her stomach. “I may not be able to be a father to it but I will love it all the same, our family has a history of loving one another more than they should.” She sniffled and giggled at that. She still looked down at her lap, her hands fidgeting as if she was nervous. He hoped to relax her as he stood once again lifting her chin so she could face him. He began to caress her cheek as she leaned into his touch. His hand lowered to the strap of her slip, he made sure his finger brushed her skin as he removed it.

“Do you love me Shaena?” Rhaegar asked.

“You know I do, my heart belongs to you always and forever,” she pledged.

“Always and forever,” he repeated standing above her. Shaena maneuvered backwards into the center of the bed. Rhaegar grabbed the hem of her slip to drag it off her completely. She watched intently as he removed his tunic then breeches, matching her in her state of undress as he made sure not to come to her room overly dressed. His intentions were not the purest but he was steadfast in his belief of what he wanted, and what he wanted was sister underneath him as it had been for years now. He soon joined her in the bed and crawled on top of her, his cock growing thicker and longer. Shaena was an ethereal beauty to be sure, tall and slender, a body he knew quite well now. His younger sister was delicate and needed to be cared for, even more so now that she carried his child and as her older brother it was his duty. Rhaegar could see her guilt ridden face and the shame she felt, all in those lilac eyes of hers, the shame they both carried, it was the same look she had on her wedding night when they had laid together.

Rhaegar would kiss away her fears, starting at her neck, collarbone, her pink pointed nipples, the valley between her breasts all the way to her navel. The deep breaths she took only endeared her more, and those deep breaths hitched when he reached his desired destination. She was a bit slick but he knew she could get slicker, so he did his best to take her wholly in his mouth. After each mouthful whatever was left outside of it he took into his mouth next. Sucking on the intimate skin drew lewd noises from his sister which made him agonizingly harder if it was possible as his cock was pressed against the bed. As selfish as he was being he could halt his own pleasure and defer to his sister because that’s what good big brothers do. So he continued sucking and licking, leaving no stone unturned and she made sure as her hand found the back of his head keeping him in certain spots she seemed to find extreme pleasure in.

“I want you to fuck me,” he heard her gasp. Her blunt words garnered his attention and took him away from his task, when he looked upon her face it was clear she was desperate. He got up on his knees between her legs drawing her closer.

“So you’ll be my mistress?” Rhaegar asked teasing her clit with the tip of his length, her rose up arms up blocking her face.

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” she whined. He pushed down on his shaft to guide himself into her heated center, dragons were gone from the world but her fire had engulfed him as much as a dragon’s would he imagined. Her heat gave him life where as a dragon’s flames only took. When he was fully inserted he pinned her arms down away from her face so he could see her, so he could dive into her to his heart’s content and see what kind of effect he had on her. He began to move inside of her as he kissed on her neck. Long and hard strokes he gave her, each thrust significant, no wasted motions, the short time he had with her he would make the most of it. Their hands intertwined in passion as their love muscles danced, squelches from their skin rubbing against one another. Her thighs were at his midsection squeezing him as she took and took and took, taking every thrust.

He kneeled back on his haunches as his hands moved just below her breasts. He controlled her body now bringing her down on his cock as her small breasts bounced every time their groins met. “Yes, right there,” she moaned.

“You feel so good,” Rhaegar complimented. His hands began to wander as well as his mind. He pinched her pink nipples, trying to elicit pleasure and pain. It was only a couple of hours ago it had been his new lady wife underneath him that he was bringing pleasure to. He couldn’t help but compare the two. Shaena’s nipples were pink where Elia’s were brown, his sister had a thatch of silver curls above her cunt where as Elia was completely bald, and there was no doubt his younger sister was the more docile of the pair, Shaena wanted him to lead but with Elia there was no stopping her from getting what she wanted, and she let it be known several times loudly. She had wanted his seed, for her stomach to swell with his child as his sister’s did. It was their wedding night so he did his best acquiesce her.

Not since Maegor the Cruel had a man bed two different women on his wedding night. He surely wasn’t the company Rhaegar wanted to keep but their circumstances were far more different. When Maegor married his Black Brides it had only been duty not love, and Rhaegar’s problem was he could not choose between the two. He loved Shaena but his duty was to Elia, so he bed them both. Most men probably dreamed of such a problem to have, especially with women as beautiful as these but he was not most men.

 _He was the crown prince._ Matters of the realm were at stake when it came to who he bedded. Yet still here he was insulting his wife and a great house because he could stop loving his sister. It’s why he was rubbing her clit, trying to stimulate her anyway he could to get her to the point of ecstasy so she could leave all the troubles that wandered her mind behind for just this one night. He would get her there, and he would get her there with his words. “So wet, so wet for your brother,” Rhaegar groaned, looking in between them seeing how much of a mess she was making. He wanted her to make more of a mess. “Are you going to cum for me?” He asked rubbing continuous circles around her nub as he knocked at her womb with his cock. She nodded her head, biting her lip, her hand running along his chest. 

“I’m going to cum with you,” he told her, speeding up the strokes wanting to keep his word. He drew her up by the neck, “You’re mine,” Rhaegar declared sealing it with a kiss. Shaena could only hum in agreement as she came around his length and he soon followed after her as he always did, as it was meant to be, she was his sister.

280 AC

_High in the halls of the kings who are gone_   
_Jenny would dance with her ghosts_   
_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found  
And the ones who had loved her the most_

_The ones who'd been gone for so very long_   
_She couldn't remember their names_   
_They spun her around on the damp old stones  
Spun away all her sorrow and pain_

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_They danced through the day_   
_And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall_   
_From winter to summer and winter again  
'Til the walls did crumble and fall_

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_   
_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_   
_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

Lyanna watched him teary eyed giving him a round of applause as he put the harp down. “I love it when you sing to me,” she said.

He grinned knowingly, “I love to sing for you,” Rhaegar replied. And that he did, a song is what started this affair, which what this was an affair, he had betrayed his vows again but this time with another woman that was not his sister.

“It’s just so sad thinking about Jenny of Oldstones and that woods witch,” Lyanna said frowning.

”That won’t do my love, this is a tower of joy,” he said as he kissed her pouty lips. “It wasn’t my intent to make you sad, we’ve only just been wed and I already live to see you smile.”

“This all just feels wrong,” she confessed to him. “It’s all just happened so fast.” Her voice was breaking, the worry clear in voice.

“We have done nothing wrong my love,” Rhaegar assured her. “When it comes to matters of the heart nothing one does should bring about feelings of guilt or regret.” No matter what he said he could still see in her eyes the doubt she held.

“Your wife...your family,” she choked.

He quickly pulled her into his embrace, his head over hers, holding her hand as she laid on his chest. “I regret nothing Lyanna, do you hear me?” He said kissing her forehead.

“I just worry this won’t end well for us, I was promised to another man and you belong to another woman,” his lady wife murmured.

Rhaegar shook his head defiantly, “And neither was our choice, let this one be ours,” he contended.

“Even if it’s mistake?”

He pondered on her question, perhaps in the manner he took her was a mistake but he did not regret the decision. _A dragon takes what it wants and he wanted her and she wanted him._ “I have made many mistakes in my life but marrying you was not one of them,” he asserted.

“Perhaps you don’t feel that way but what if the worst happens,” she said voicing her trepidation.

Rhaegar sighed, “Tragedy seems to follow my family I admit but I would never let any harm come to you,” he promised her.

“You can’t promise something like that, some things are out of your control even when you’re the crown prince,”

”I can and I am,” he quipped, hoping his confidence would ease her mind but she still laid there solemnly. “Mistake or not but I can’t help but feel we are fated to be with one another.”

“And you believe in fate?” Lyanna pondered aloud, Rhaegar confirmed her assertion with a nod.

“I do,” he admitted. “Though my father thinks me a fool for it and for a time I thought myself foolish. Many have begun to call him mad already and I am my father’s son. Often happiness and tragedy are two sides of a coin much like greatness and madness. I am a man besotted by dreams and prophecy, trying to find meaning to my existence. Everything my family has endured since coming to Westeros must have meaning. Of all the dragon lords of old it was only Daenys the Dreamer that could save her family from the doom, only I dream of saving the world.”

“I don’t understand,” Lyanna said, her brows furrowed as her curiosity peaked looking up at him. Rhaegar had only been with her for a moon’s turn at most but he felt he could tell this woman everything.

“I want to share this with you as you are my wife, everything I have is yours but you may think me mad.”

“I could never think that,” she said almost as if she was offended he would think she would think that.

Rhaegar took a breath before divulging, “The woods witch that was at High Heart where we were wed, she has a history with my family. Long ago she told my grandfather of a prophecy, that the prince that was promised would be born from the line of my father and mother.”

“The prince that was promised?”

“It’s an old prophecy from the East that foretold the coming of a prophesied savior, Azor Ahai born again that would save the world from the darkness.”

“What darkness?” Lyanna inquired.

“You’re a Stark of Winterfell, you know of the others and the Long Night, a night that lasted a generation,” he reasoned. “Well my grandfather forced my mother and father to marry solely because of what this woods witch said to him. He had only met her cause his brother’s wife was Jenny of Oldstones who brought the witch to court, and his brother Duncan was never supposed to marry Jenny but he broke his betrothal and married her anyway in the Riverlands.”

“Sounds familiar,” she cooed.

He smiled then, “It wasn’t long after that my mother gave birth to me at Summerhall where tragedy struck, fate of my family,” he lamented. “I must have been ten-and-four when my mother told me that’s why she thought I was so sullen as a child and that the only time I would smile was when I had my head in a book. That’s also about the time I first learned about the prophecy and how it said the prince would be born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star so for a time I believed it to be me. I mean what boy my age wouldn’t want to be such a fabled figure. My head only got more inflated when Maester Aemon from Castle Black said he thought it might be me as well.”

“Do you still think that?”

“It was only my hubris that allowed me to believe,” he said begrudgingly. “I wanted to believe that I was destined for something greater, beyond myself, that I had a role to play even if it wasn’t me then perhaps my children. Maester Aemon told me the dragon must have three heads, that dragons would be our salvation, so I named my three children after the Targaryens who conquered Westeros with dragons. Even when Elia gave birth to my youngest there I saw a comet fly over King’s Landing and I became more sure that I was right.”

“And are you?” She asked. 

Rhaegar was hesitant to answer. “I don’t know, prophecies are a curious thing,” he bemoaned as he ran a finger through her long brown threads. “I wasn’t sure of anything anymore until I met you.”

Lyanna blushed, her cheeks turning a Targaryen red. “You sure do know how to make a girl feel special.” 

“It’s cause you are special, what we have is special. We aren’t supposed to be together but yet here we are so hopelessly in love, fire and ice.”

“They’ll sing songs about us, a song of ice and fire.” Lyanna mused, smiling once more.

“Fire consumes and ice preserves, if ice can burn, then love and hate can mate. What I feel for you consumes me and isn’t fleeting, it will preserve the test of time so long as I draw breath. Our union maybe ill fated or what’s needed to unite two great families for the wars to come. The blood of the First Men run through your veins and the blood of Old Valyria runs through mine, our histories go back thousands of years, our bloods rich with magic yet our families have never been united in marriage. The closest came when Jacaerys Velaryon forged the Pact of Ice and Fire with Cregan Stark during the Dance of Dragons.”

“It’s not everyday a girl hears she’s only wanted for her blood especially considering your family’s history.”

He chuckled whether she was jesting or not he wasn’t sure, “Love and duty seldom coincide so I have the gods favor. I can assure you my intentions were pure when we met and all of this has been on my mind quite recently. I’ve never seen a girl quite like you so strong yet so small,” he said as he ran his hands along her small frame to emphasize his words. “A girl so brave she takes on three squires for a man she barely knows. When my father tasked me to find the Knight of the Laughing Tree to my delightful surprise to find it was you, and in that moment was when knew I loved you and why I knew I had to come back for you cause I knew you felt the same.”

“Did my crying when you first sung to me at the feast give it away?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “Though I don’t have any plans of making you cry anymore my love, I told you this was a tower of joy, nothing outside of it matters, only us.” Seemingly his words had sparked something in her as she moved from his grasp to straddle him in the bed. Their naked bodies had been intertwined for several days already, and it seemed she was ready for another tryst. This petite girl had quite an appetite, a she-wolf indeed. The way she had ridden him to ecstasy several times over, he should have no doubts concerning her inner strength. For a girl who had been in mismatched armor had defeated three knights jousting, she had been on horseback most of the way to Dorne, Lyanna was a rider, the Starks were known for their horse faces and maybe she was half a horse herself.

Her dainty fingers gripped his length, stroking him, bringing him back to reality, a reality he very much enjoyed. Whether she was teasing him or herself, she rubbed his phallus on her opening, she bit her lip and hissed as she began to slowly impale herself on his cock. Her grey eyes stared into his soul, this woman would take everything from him he surmised and he would be content with whatever she gave back. Then she began to ride him feverly, back and forth her hips thrusted on top of him. His hands rubbing her thighs as they held their eye contact.

“Fuck,” he groaned. The feelings boiled up inside of him ready to burst. He knew his face gave it away as he tried to temper himself but she wouldn’t slow down. “Mercy,” he cried as he pinched her side. She held a wolfish smile on her face, baring her teeth and it told him she quite enjoyed having him at her mercy.

“The Dragon Prince yielding to me, I quite like the sound of that,” she quipped. Her mannerisms slowed, her motions more thorough and did not help his issue one bit.

“You’re getting quite good at this,” he observed.

“It’s like riding a horse... _or a dragon_.” Lyanna mused wearing a wicked smile. Her hands planted on his chest as the pressure steadily increased again, hard and fast, the wet sounds of their skin meeting every time her hips snapped. “And I do love riding ever since I was a little girl,” she breathed.

“You’re not a little girl anymore, little girls don’t fuck like this.” Rhaegar said and she gave him a knowing look.

“Have you fucked many little girls?” Lyanna asked crudely, she had become shameless in their short time together.

“Only my sister but let’s not speak of her,” he replied.

“No, I’d rather you beg for a reprieve again,” she said as his body sunk more into the bed under the weight and pressure. “Lyanna,” he grunted, face red and chest heaving. His hands clasped at her thighs, keeping her seated as she bucked against him.

“You’re so deep,” she moaned, her hands moving from his chest to her breasts as she cupped them. Not to be outdone and outworked he began to rut up into her, pounding her flesh, if he was going to cum it would on his terms. Not taking the hint she pulled on his shoulders and he sat up with her, hugging her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re making me cum,” she gasped, her forehead pressed to his. Their breaths were short and ragged, Rhaegar groaned with every upward thrust inside of her. Her mouth was wide open as she came all around his length, he kissed her then as she closed her eyes tightly. Soon after he shot his seed up inside of her, if it was truly fate their union would result in a boy, a promised prince that would be the savior of this world and if not he would enjoy throughly fucking his bride for the rest of his days.

“I never want to leave this place,” she whispered in his ear which were his exact sentiments.

281 AC

As the crown prince and commander of the royal army he led his troops from the rear on a small rise over hill that allowed him to oversee the entire battlefield. This battle was his making and he couldn’t ask the men to do all the fighting for him, and as he saw his left flank decimated, Dornishmen scattering it seemed he would be left with no other option to join the fray. Ser Barristan was already engulfed in the battle, his friend ever the bold, as was Ser Jonothor Darry. He knew this would be the decisive battle, Robert’s Rebellion they were calling it, his men already hardened from the war had won almost every battle and with every victory they believed in their sole single purpose to usurp his family. As if the weight of an entire dynasty on his shoulders wasn’t enough, he wore night black plate armor, with the three headed dragon of his house on his breastplate decorated in rubies and underneath the plate he wore golden ring mail. To put down this rebellion he would have to find the one who give it life, Lord Robert Baratheon.

He knew he was a marked man, if his armor didn’t give him away it would be the silver hair that flowed from his black helm. Robert would have to be looking for him, and as he headed downstream amongst the muck with the fighting all around him he must be vigilant enough to find him. He would not waste his time with lesser man on foot as he let his personal guard deal with them. Rhaegar heard him before he saw him, the large antlered helm on the great beast of a man who shouting on horseback, charging to meet him. Robert continued to roar as he stampeded full speed at him and they met in the middle of the river in a titanic clash. He would use Robert’s rage against him as he quickly avoided his first swing while he thrust his long sword that deflected off Robert’s armor. Joust they said was very different from battle but they clashed again and again on their horses more intense with each pass. It wasn’t until he thrust his sword into Robert’s destrier at their next pass killing it did the joust end. The move was more out of fatigue than strategy as it’s legs collapsed which launched Robert headfirst into the stream.

The Lord of Storm’s End rose to his feet, his armor was dented and dripping wet with blood and water. Rhaegar charged at him once more to press the advantage, he would swing upwards so ferociously that even though Rhaegar managed to block the blow the impact knocked him from his saddle into the stream and now they were both on even ground. As Rhaegar struggled to his feet, Robert lunged at the crown prince who staggered backwards as the violent onslaught began, he raised his shield to block Robert’s powerful blows trying to buy time to recover his balance. When he finally found a firm footing to counter but it did not matter as his shield cracked under the pressure of Robert’s warhammer. Robert still attacked intensely in a rage, as Rhaegar tossed the tattered shield, he rose his long sword to combat the blows as they met in a battle of wills. 

“Die!” Robert screamed at the top of his lungs after every swing. 

Rhaegar knew for all the honor he tried to live by that he would not be able to defeat this man with nobility nor strength. Nothing else mattered but this fight, not the battle that raged around them, not even his injuries. All that matters was Robert’s death by his hands by whatever means necessary. As he held his long sword with two hands to hold off the hammer, he rose his foot into Robert’s chest to drive him back. He heard Robert laughing as Rhaegar went on the offensive, every thrust and swing aimed at the Lord of Storm’s End neck. Their feet trudged through the muck that was the Trident, moving this much through the water wouldn’t be conducive for a long drawn out fight, he was waiting on a mistake that Robert would not make. His breath ragged as they continued their fight. Finally he thrusted his longsword at the openings in Robert’s damaged armor cutting fresh wounds but not nearly severe enough to stop a man possessed.

“Is that the best you can do?” Robert mocked.

He let out a battle cry, and began to swing like a mad man. As light on his feet as he usually was how strong the river flowed took that advantage from him, and there was little he could do to keep avoiding him. It happened so very quickly as he made the mistake of tripping over his heavy drenched feet. Before he could even fall backwards Robert slammed his hammer into his chest in what felt like the fury of a hundred men, a blow befitting the rebel lord’s house words, a blow that scattered the rubies that decorated his breastplate. He struggled to breath and it wasn’t because the streaming river washing over him, it was the fact his chest had been caved in, he felt his lungs giving out, the blood pooling from his mouth. With his dying last breath he closed his eyes, picturing his lady love and whispered her name, “Lyanna”.

* * *

His memory was hazy, flashes of his life coming back to him. He remembered falling from his horse and the chaos that ensued there after. Defeated at the Trident at the hands of the man whose betrothed that he had stolen. Robert Baratheon proved to be his better with a swing of his warhammer, caving in his breast plate along with his chest. The last gasps of breaths he took were a struggle, the river washing over him only made it more difficult all the while the rebel lord looked down upon him, an image that he not soon forget for the rest of his days. 

  
When he came to, the shortness of breath had been the same except he was not falling but rising. He was being dragged out, spitting up water on the river bank on his hands and knees, and it was not Robert Baratheon that stood over him. “My prince,” the voice said and he looked up to identify who it was that spoke it was none other than Ser Jonothor Darry. The sun was shining brightly at his back making it difficult to look the knight in his face from ground level. Ser Jonothor held out an arm to help him to his feet.

“How’d you find me?” Rhaegar asked.

“Strange thing to ask a man who’s risen from the dead.”

“What would you have me ask?” Rhaegar questioned.

“How is it that we’re standing where we’re standing, when the last thing I remember was a being cut down by a knight of the  Vale only to awaken under a pile of dead bodies.”

Rhaegar didn’t quite know how to put it into words yet so he changed the subject. “Where’s Ser Barristan?” He said searching his surroundings.

“Gone, dead, who knows? The more pertinent question is why do I hear ringing in my ear, why the sun makes my skin crawl, and why the sight of blood...oh gods,” his usual hoarse voice was breaking filled with panic. The usually calm and focused knight was earnest in his dread as he fell to his knees face in hand, his white cloak was drenched, with dirt and grime. Ser Jonothor quickly moved to a Meera by tree for shade, slumping against the stump.“What is happening to me? All the bodies I saw on my way here, their blood...I wanted to drink their blood.” 

“You’re in transition,” Rhaegar informed him. 

He looked up at the crown prince bemused, “Transitioning into what?”

Rhaegar exhaled before crouching down to look the knight in the eye to speak true. “A nightwalker,” he simply replied knowing he would have to expound. “You’ll have to drink human blood to complete them transition.”

“What—how? How is this happening?” He asked incredulously.

“You drank my blood,” Rhaegar told him. “It was in the wine we drank before battle, you as well as Ser Barristan. Him not being here can only mean he did not perish in battle.”

Still stupefied the knight only shook his head in denial, “You gave me your blood but to what end? How is any of this possible?”

“You know of my family’s magic, our blood that gave us the power to ride dragons can also give you life.” Rhaegar explained, taking a seat next to the knight knowing all of this was difficult to process. “You have cheated death Ser, I’ve gifted you a second life but this life does come with its own complications, once you complete this transition you turn your back on the sun and become a creature of the night with an insatiable thirst for human blood.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a life at all.” Ser Jonothor deduced. “Who would want this? Why would you force this on me?” 

“Because you are of the Kingsguard, sworn to obey me and keep my secrets, and this secret I could not bare alone.” Rhaegar admitted as he placed a reassuring hand on the knight’s shoulder. Ser Jonothor nodded his head in understanding as Rhaegar continued, “My father only told me the family secret on my sixteenth nameday, he said his own father, my grandsire was the first of his kind, that he didn’t know how to control his bloodlust. I never knew him but many at court wouldn’t dare speak his name or talk about his reign, it’s why my family has drawn such ire from the faith.”

“Doesn’t seem like there’s much to such an existence.” Ser Jonothor said quietly. 

“On the contrary, even an existence such as this one is full of possibilities while death is so final,” he mused.

“So where do we go from here?” Ser Jonothor asked.

Rhaegar thought on it. The rebel host must be camped nearby after a day of battle, they could not cross paths with them once more, they needed discretion and shelter. “Castle Darry should be less than ten leagues from here, it is your home. Your family might have been the only house in the Riverlands that stayed loyal to my mine, we can hold up there for a time.” When Rhaegar rose he felt the knight grab at his arm to hold him, “Mayhaps we should we should wait till dusk,” the knight suggested.

The crown prince clapped his hand, “Forgive my eagerness and dismissal of your discomfort, I just want to make sure my family is safe,” he said before taking a seat once more.

They waited till the sky was blood orange and the sun would no longer be an issue for them. They walked in relative silence along the way trying to avoid running into any folk along the way. A silver haired man and a man dressed in all white would certainly garner the wrong kind of attention. As the sky grew darker and darker it served its purpose in concealing their presence. When they reached Castle Darry their arrival was a shock to the household. As staunch loyalists they were invited into Plowman’s Keep for cover. They spoke of the devastation that the war has had on their house, the choice to side against their overlords, House Tully had come at great cost. The young son of House Darry, Raymun had lost three brothers in the Battle at the Trident. Lord Darry offered them save haven but admitted they did not know for how long it would be before the river lords come and try seek reparations.

“Word has spread of my defeat, the rebels will soon march on the capitol and with the crown’s armies decimated King’s Landing will fall.” Rhaegar stated bitterly.

“What of Tywin Lannister and his armies?” Ser Jonothor pondered aloud. “They say he marches on the capitol as well.” 

“My father and Tywin have a complicated relationship, and above all else Lord Tywin is self serving. The fact my father insulted a very proud man like him at every opportunity won’t help matters.” Rhaegar explained.

“My brother is still in the capitol.”

“As our mine, if we mean to make it to the capitol before any other army we must complete the transition.” Rhaegar advised.

The thought seemingly repulsed Ser Jonothor, “Feed on human blood...” he contemplated aloud.

“It won’t take much,” the crown prince said hoping that it could make the choice easier but it wasn’t a choice at all. “Your cousin, Mariya, bring her to me,” he said but the knight did not move only staring coldly back at Rhaegar.

“Is that a command?” Ser Jonothor asked but Rhaegar did not bother replying as the man knew the answer already. After the brief stalemate the knight of the Kingsguard finally rose from his seat to comply. When he returned he had Mariya in tow, she was timid when approaching.

“Ser Jonothor said you wanted to see me?” The girl Mariya said demurely, her eyes looking down at her feet as she stood in front of him.

“Yes, I have need of you.” Rhaegar said softly, the words making her blush.

“House Darry are your faithful servants, my prince,” she declared. Rhaegar lifted her chin with his index finger to look her in the eye. “I understand you’re betrothed to one Merrett Frey.”

“Yes, my father thought the match suitable but that was before all the fighting began,” Mariya clarified, her brown eyes widening. “I would never want to marry a rebel but I did what my father bid as any woman does.”

Rhaegar half smiled brushing the blond bangs from her face, “The fault does not lie with you, your father demanded something of you for the betterment of his house and I shall do the same.” His hand traveled from her temple to her shoulder then down her arm slowly till he reached her hand which had been held in fist, she relaxed under his touch and her fist opened. Rhaegar rubbed her palm. “I’m in need of your blood.” He informed her, to say she was taken by his words would be an understatement as she tried to close her hand but he still held her.

“Relax,” he cooed as he pulled out his dagger. With a swift swipe of his blade he cut her palm. He felt overcome with greed as the blood leaked from the wound, he quickly put his lips to it and began to drink straight from the cut. The taste was euphoric, and gave him life. He could he hear groaning as sated his appetite. When he was done he took a chalice and let her balled fist leak blood into it. When the bleeding started to slow he slid the cup across the table to Ser Jonothor, “Drink,” he told him. He watched the knight pause before lifting the cup and quickly drinking. The whites of his eyes turned blood-red as dark veins appeared under them and his teeth extend into razor sharp fangs. Rhaegar turned his attention back to Mariya whose breathing had picked up, he could hear her heart racing in fear. He brought a hand to the back of her neck as he stared in her eyes, “Do not be afraid,” he said soothingly as she stared at him, her eyes softened and heartbeat slowed. “Forget this ever happened, you cut yourself preparing us dinner.”

“I cut myself preparing dinner,” she repeated. When the trance was broken Mariya smiled and turned away heading to the kitchens.

The Kingsguard knight who was now sucking his fingers after rubbing them inside the chalice looked on intrigued, “How did you do that?” Ser Jonothor inquired.

 _Insatiable, Rhaegar thought._ “You’ll have an eternity to learn but first we must figure a way to get to King’s Landing before the rebels do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I finally updated, I hope you all liked it or atleast are intrigued. Tell me what you think in the comments.


	6. Grand Machinations and Reconciliations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present desires. Future ambitions.

**ELIA**   
_Water Gardens_

A palace of leisure was the Water Gardens, and these days all she had was free time. The Water Gardens were quite pleasant around these times, hot days and cool nights, the salt breeze blowing in from the sea. Everyday she thanked her ancestor Maron Martell for raising such a place which was a gift to his bride Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Ironically all these years later the pale pink marble garden and courtyard was still very much a gift to Targaryen royalty. She watched Aegon and Rhaenys spend much of their days here in the pools with their kin, highborn and naturalized alike. They would always beg for her to join, to teach them how to swim now her children were grown and couldn’t be bothered with her, a part of her enjoyed that freedom even if they would always be her precious babes. 

Now she was much like her brother, resigned to watch as generations of children play while she relaxed and thunk, all the free time she had to think would only result in the machinations of a woman scorned. She was Princess Elia Nymeros Martell of Dorne, and for a time she thought she would be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Rhaegar her king with Aegon and Rhaenys to rule after them but none of that came to pass. Instead they were confined to Dorne with their titles stripped away. She was partly to blame, Rhaegar had found comfort in another woman’s arms though she had done everything to keep him satisfied. She was quite agreeable to the match, there was something special about the Targaryens and even amongst them Rhaegar stood out. She took him in her mouth without him needing to ask, she listened to his ramblings, had given him two healthy children, and if her body hadn’t failed her she would have given him more. Even in that frailty she let him satisfy his desires as any wife would with her husband, he was her King even though he did not sit the Iron Throne. If he wanted to bring another woman into their bed it was his right, but never did she think he would insult three great houses in the process and now he was gone with his children having to deal with the sins of their father. 

“You’re more quiet than usual.” Doran surveyed.

“Just thinking,” she replied and she was sure he knew what had her mind occupied, her brother had always been perceptive. “Biding our time is a hard thing to do but the right thing,” he advised. 

Elia scoffed, “We’ve been biding our time for seventeen years now.”

“So what’s a few more moons?” He asked, shrugging his shoulders. He leaned over from his seat to take a cup of freshly squeezed lemon juice, taking a sip. Doran grimaced as he laid the cup back down and added a couple of spoonfuls of sugar. “When life gives you lemons you make lemonade but in unsuitable conditions, the lemons cannot grow thus making the trees fruitless.”

 _Him and his parables, she thought rolling her eyes._ “I’m sure you’ll explain to me whatever it is you’re really trying to say.” Elia groaned.

Doran grinned before taking another sip, “The lemon tree no longer serve a purpose.” 

“And I’m the lemon tree in all this?” She questioned. 

“The Dornish are the lemons, if we send Dornish spears to march on King’s Landing we lose our geographical advantage not to mention we lack the numbers. The Dornish were able to defy the Targaryens for so long because of our terrain,” he explained. Elia knew that she had no mind for military and that her brother had always been pragmatic so it would behoove her to pay deference to him, though it’s not as if she much of a choice in the matter, he was her older brother and the Prince of Dorne, he had the last word and his words were always of caution. “For lemon trees to bare fruit there need be sunshine and fresh water, luckily for us Dorne have both in abundance.” He passed her a cup but she raised her hand waving it off as she reached for a knife.

“You know I’ve always preferred blood oranges,” she quipped as she took one in hand and began peeling it. “They can be a bit bitter but I am as well.”

He studied her for a moment before replying, “They are well past ripe,” her brother said in a weary voice. As she cut the slices his observation proved quite right as the sharp sweet smell of them filled her nostrils. Elia popped one of the slices in her mouth, the tart flavor bursting in her mouth. “I don’t doubt your wisdom brother but you must come to see it as I have,” she beckoned. “It’s been seventeen years since I lost my husband and my children lost their birthright...how many days have gone by, how many moons have passed, how many shades of orange have I seen fill up in the sky as I watched the sunrise and set from this pavilion. Seeing that color gave me hope that the sun would set and rise one day soon and on that day my son would come into his throne.” She said glaring at the red Dornish sun in the orange sky then the blood orange in her hand.

”Well said,” Doran sighed, “But have you forgotten I lost my wife just as you have lost your husband. All that we have left of them is our children, overextend yourself and declare a hopeless war, we may very well lose that as well.” He cautioned. Just as he finished speaking Aegon, Rhaenys and Oberyn came striding into the garden. They watched from the shade underneath the orange trees as they made their approach. Her son looked very much a Targaryen prince, his pale silver-gold hair and purple eyes always distinguishable. Nearly six feet, he was a confident man of seven and ten, his soft elegant features were the reasons but by no means was he a perfumed prince. Aegon had been shaped for rule before he could walk. He had been trained in arms with Oberyn alongside his cousin Quentyn since he was a boy, he already spoke several tongues, and loved to read, he mostly studied history of the Targaryens, wanting to be very much like his father who she often spoke of. It seemed the gods thought it best he share all the similarities with Rhaegar as she saw little of herself in him while Rhaenys looked very much like her but much younger and more bosom. Her black hair, golden brown eyes made her similar to most Dornish princesses but it was her full lips and her hourglass frame that made most men uneasy to be around her. She worried Arianne and Oberyn influenced her too much, her free willed nature wasn’t quite befitting a princess who is to be Queen but her daughter never cared much for acquiescing others sensibilities.

Rhaenys rushed the rest of the way to give her a hug nearly jumping into her lap and then moved to give her uncle Doran a hug as well, her body pressed against him not caring for his inflamed joints while Aegon greeted them more courtly. “Mother,” he greeted with a kiss on her cheek before moving to his uncle and shaking his hand, “Uncle,” he smiled. 

“Do you ever move from this spot? It’s like every time I come here you’re sitting on your ass while Elia drinks and thinks.” Oberyn crudely said with a wry smile.

“I like this spot, it’s relaxing and gives me a great view of the pavilion,” Doran replied. 

“This one behind you doesn’t seem relaxed, could it be my brother has overstated the view or perhaps it’s the six foot long-axe you carry everywhere.” Oberyn jested at the expense of Areo Hotah, the bearded, white haired and broad shouldered man who was Doran’s captain of the guard. Oberyn clapped him on the shoulder and Hotah only grunted in response.

Her children began to giggle at the expense of Areo, “I don’t think I recall ever seeing Areo smile.” Aegon commented.

“I’ve seen him smile, but only with Arianne,” Rhaenys mentioned which garnered a confused look from Aegon which made her expound on her words. “Not in that way,” she clarified, whispering to Aegon but Doran had already picked up on their conversation. “In what way?” he asked but Rhaenys ignored the question, helping herself to some blood oranges.

Doran turned his attention to Oberyn, “So what do I owe the pleasure?”

Aegon and Oberyn exchanged looks before Oberyn answered, “I saw these two at Sunspear they said they were on their way back here so I thought I’d accompany them.” 

“Don’t tell me he’s got to you to,” Doran said in disbelief, his shoulders slumping.

“Gotten me to what?” Oberyn asked in confusion.

“This absurd business to take back the Iron Throne.” Doran expressed. Feeling slighted her son spoke before Oberyn could offer a reply, “How is it absurd to take back something that’s rightfully mine?“ Aegon pondered aloud.

Her older brother suckled his teeth, “There’s a world of a difference between having a blood claim and pressing one.”

“With House Martell backing me and if the Golden Company agrees along with the dragon eggs I can press my claim.” Aegon argued.

“The Golden Company...dragon eggs...it’s all fairly presumptive of you my dear nephew,” Doran chided, “But I only deal in certainties as any smart ruler does.”

“There’s not many things certain in this life uncle.” Rhaenys said cutting in. 

Doran was brusque, “Sure there is,” he remarked. “Death and taxes are a certainty as well as men fighting for gold or glory.”

“And they will have it all if they accept the contract.” Aegon asserted. 

“If they accept, it is a sellsword company started by the Blackfyres, and if I recall they hate your family,” Doran reminded him. 

Oberyn was next to speak breaking his silence, “Times have changed, most are sons of sons that weren’t even around for the War of the Ninepenny Kings.”  
  
“Uncle Oberyn knows how these sellswords think, as does Jon Connington, who was a member himself. As for the dragon eggs even if they don’t hatch they could be sold for ships or soldiers.” Aegon said desperately pressing his argument. 

“And you would send Oberyn and Jon Connington to treat with them in your stead.” Doran asked and her son nodded. 

“And who would rule Sunspear while Oberyn is away?”

“Who rules Sunspear now? Arianne already does so much in your absence.” Rhaenys informed him.

Her older brother’s eyebrows raised, “Does she now?” Doran asked speculatively. 

“Your ambition was to see your daughter become Queen, that is still within our grasp. You can bring back Quentyn from Yronwood and have him rule in your stead, and with Arianne in King’s Landing maybe your hair will stop graying.” Elia said in a last attempt to convince him.

That watched him linger in silence before he finally gave a nod of his head, finally conceded to their pleas. “But hear me Aegon, kingship is a right as much as it is a duty, and a king’s duty is to his people first, you must live and rule for them. Thousands of Dornishmen lives will be in your hands.”

“I understand uncle, I always heed your words and I’m grateful for your everything you’ve done for me.” Aegon said as he reached in for a hug. 

She stood and placed a hand on Aegon’s back to gain his attention. “Would you walk with me Aegon?” Elia asked.

“Of course mother,” he replied as they separated from the rest and walked the pavilion. Aegon plucked leaves from the garden, tossing them into the water as they walked. “Your father would be proud,” she told him, hoping she could give him courage if he was having any doubts.

He frowned sadly, she had seen much sadness in his father during their years together, she did everything she could to make sure Aegon was a happy child despite not knowing his father. “I wish I had known him,” he said sadly pausing look at his reflection in the water. “But Robert Baratheon took that away from me.”

She took his face in her hands, “You mustn’t allow yourself to be fueled solely by vengeance, you should believe you’re the better choice for the people, that House Targaryen provides a stability to the realm that was established when your ancestors forged the Iron Throne.”

He scoffed, “Stability? Is that what you call the Dance of Dragons or the Blackfyre Rebellions. Targaryens fighting Targaryens for power.” 

“You know this yet Rhaegar’s siblings still live, your claim for power may offend them.”

“It’s not a claim, the Iron Throne is mine by right,” Aegon declared. “Father died and his father before him, and I am the crown prince’s son, my uncles will understand this, we’re all on the same side.”

“I pray it’s that simple.” Elia said as she hooked an arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder. 

“You say father thought I was destined for something, that I was the prince that was promised, well this is my destiny mother, to restore House Targaryen to its rightful place on the Iron Throne and anyone who stands in my way will receive my house words.”

**SHAENA**   
_Dragonstone_

The festivities had carried on well into the night which was much preferable as creatures of it. Considering it was the last night on the island for many as well as Daenerys’ name day it was quite the subdued event and by subdued she meant there wasn’t any blood being spilled. Stories and drinks were shared, gifts given and the drunkards singing and dancing. Even if the girl that such festivities were held for had retired to her room already. Whether she was tired or grown bored she soon followed suit returning to her own chambers. She could do without Aegon and Jaehaerys’ incessant noises, her mother and father had left far earlier, and Visenya had left with Daenerys. She knew as she left Daeron would not be far behind her.

When she reached her chambers she quickly made herself comfortable by tossing her slippers. Shaena was ready to unwind, and the cups of wine she had to thank for that. She plopped into the chair facing her mirror, the many braids in her hair didn’t help the slight pounding in her head, thoughit took more cups for her to feel anything since her change she always ended up overdoing it. If that inconvenience wasn’t enough she no longer had a reflection to help to release the braids in her hair. Her mother wasn’t around, the girls doing gods know what, she was all on her own to perform quite the difficult task. 

Now that she thought about it, a lack of reflection was one of the many inconveniences that came with her affliction. Though it could very well be a blessing, what if the mirror actually showed who she truly was inside, the monster that lay dormant and only showed itself in times of hunger and thirst. 

No. She didn’t want that truth staring back at her.

A creak in the door took her away from the self deprecating thoughts. It was Daeron entering the room they had shared since they had first arrived on Dragonstone all those years ago. When Visenya was only a girl of five and now she was a woman grown.

“I thought I saw you sneaking off,” she heard him say.

“I wasn’t sneaking...I just found I could no longer suffer our obnoxious brothers boasting about how many women they planned to lay with or their insistent fawning over the Lady Melisandre and that Shiera.” Shaena breathed.

“Our brothers do have a weakness for women.” Daeron responded. 

Her hands wrestled in her hair trying to untangle the braids she wore. “Our brothers but not you?” She questioned. She heard him drawing near, till she felt him looming directly behind her then she felt his strong hands at the base of her neck then her hair.

“I’m not most men,” Daeron casually boasted as he always did at every opportunity. She felt his hands massaging her scalp which had been sore from the braids “And I only have eyes for one woman.”

“Lucky girl,” Shaena said giving into a blush, though she did her best so he could not see the effect his words had. “Unlucky for me, she hasn’t said but a few words to me all evening.” Daeron gloomily stated.

Shaena hummed, “Perhaps you’ve done something to offend her.”m

“Perhaps…maybe if she spoke plainly I would know what I’ve done to garner such a spurn.” 

She decided to take his suggestion speaking plainly, “You told our daughter she could go with you without speaking to me, her mother,” she snarled. His hands stopped moving in her hair, “I was under the assumption she spoke to you first.” Daeron reasoned. 

“And what gave you that assumption?”

“Visenya herself told me you said it would be okay after I told her she would have to ask you first.” Daeron replied. She turned to look upon his face, “Our Visenya lying? That doesn’t sound like her,” she said clearly skeptical.

“I thought the same when called me Daeron. She seemed like she really wanted to go, she talked about not wanting to be confined to the castle like Daenerys.” His words made all the sense in the world, it was seldom their own father allowed them to roam freely, he didn’t want people knowing of their existence and what they were. Living in secrecy protected the family though it didn’t stop her brothers from sneaking out.

She stifled a sigh, “Still, I don’t like her lying to us. I can understand her wanting to see other places but Dragonstone is our home, it’s where we’ll be safest with family but I know I can trust her father to keep her safe out there.” Shaena pulled one of his arms to her chest, laying her head against it. She could feel him tensing up behind her, her husband though very caring seldomly shared how he felt even though she was his wife, his sister, after all this time she imagined she could be his confidant. 

“You were even younger than her when you were rebelling against father and mother’s wishes.” Daeron reminded her but there was a big difference between herself and her daughter, Visenya did not have a doting older brother, as far as she knew her daughter was a maid and didn’t involve herself with her uncles as Daeron would have none of it. “I don’t think it’s a boy that has her acting this way,” she surmised.

“I’d sooner die if I wasn’t already.” Daeron protested.

“It’s inevitable, she’s only getting older and if everything goes according to father’s plans lords will be vying for her hand soon enough.” Shaena reasoned.

“Maybe while I’m in Westeros I’ll visit Skagos and get her a unicorn for a wedding gift.” He jested.

“Please not Skagos again, I could do without father scolding me for your actions.” She laughed and he joined in as well before taking on a much more serious tone. “You know at first, the promise of an offspring meant little to me, especially one not of my own making then I recalled our father and how he held me in contempt as he did with you from the moment he lost the Iron Throne. I will not do to Visenya what was done to us.”

“You are not our father, though you try your best to please him. I remember all you ever wanted was to be a Kingsguard, to protect father, to make him proud, how much you practiced with your sword.”

“Until I learned you couldn’t use your sword once you donned the white cloak.” Her face reddened understanding his true meaning as she began kissing his palm.

“Just promise me you won’t let our brothers get our daughter into any trouble.”

“I won’t,” he assured her. He leaned into her touch, brushing her hair to one side to expose her neck as he began to whisper against her skin, “Speaking of our brothers they’re attending the red woman’s nightfire tonight on the beach, I was wondering if you’d care to join me for a drink.”

“I was thinking something more...intimate if tonight is to be your last night on Dragonstone.” Daeron grinned, “What did you have in mind?” He pondered.

“It involved you using that sword of yours.” Shaena murmured back as their lips met in a chaste kiss that only deepened. Soon he was kissing all over, her cheek, her neck, her chest, she could feel his pointy fangs every time his mouth was on her. Daeron did love to bite that was one thing she learned about him even more so after the change. 

From the chair to the bed they moved, clinging to each other. They tore at each other’s clothes roughly, tossing them to the wayside. His hand gripped her neck not caring if she could draw breath or not. Their passion had always been intense since they came back from the dead and this time would be no different as he pinned both of her arms down, her legs wrapped around him tight so she could feel his hardened length on top of her but he was moving too soft and slow for her taste. So she flipped them as she lay on top quickly getting him inside of her. A battle of wills or attrition, the pain they inflicted on each other was the only way the knew how to express their love. It was toxic but how else would an arranged marriage continue with so many complications, unrequited feelings that would never fully surface, but with all that was an undeniable truth they were husband and wife, sister and brother, bound together for eternity. 

_Always and forever._

**LYANNA**   
_Moat Cailin_

The only dry road through the neck was their only means of traveling North, the narrow causeway would lead them straight to Moat Cailin. Growing up in Winterfell all her lessons taught her how important Moat Cailin was to the North. It was how the First Men defended against Andal invaders for thousands of years. Though when she first saw the fortress it wasn’t the stronghold she had expected, it was a ruin. According to legend, the children of the forest worked magic at the Moat. It’s said they used the hammer of waters on the Neck to try and break Westeros in two in an attempt to separate the north from the south in the same way they shattered the Arm of Dorne. The children failed and only succeeded in flooding the area which created the bogs and swamps that surrounded them.

“So what will you say when we ultimately arrive at Winterfell, everybody thinks you’re dead.” Ser Arthur Dayne asked as he looked back at her from the front of their small pack. 

“We’re still quite a bit away from Winterfell, I’ll have to think on it.” Lyanna answered and think on it she had but to no avail.

“Your presence will complicate matters for Lord Stark no doubt.” Ser Arthur replied.

“It’ll be a surprise for everyone when three people who are supposed to be dead just show up unannounced.” Ser Oswell stated. The knight’s bluntness always had a way of putting things in perspective for her. “I’m asking a lot of my brother to be sure, probably more than a sister should ask but we’re family, that much hasn’t changed.” Lyanna replied. She knew she was being more hopeful than anything else and her son could sense that.

“Do you think he’ll be happy to see me?” said Jacaerys with apprehension in his voice.

She smiled trying to ease his worries, “Of course he will, you’re his family,” she assured him as she placed a reassuring hand to his face, caressing his cheek.

“And what of your other brother?” You know the one with less honor and more bastards. Will he share the same enthusiasm?” Ser Oswell asked, clearly pessimistic but she would not let him dissuade her.

“Brandon has always been wild and truth be told he’s been lied to all these years, I don’t know how he’ll take it but one thing I do know is my brother loves his family.” Lyanna answered truthfully. 

“If I was a betting man I’d wager he’d take it about as well as he took to you disappearing,” said Ser Oswell. Lyanna rolled her eyes at him and the insinuation that he knew her brother better than she did. “Wasn’t his first impulse to march to King’s Landing, yelling for Rhaegar come out and die? Ser Oswell sneered. “Your brother never struck me as an understanding man who is slow to anger.”

Jacaerys was quick to react to the knight’s words. “Mother, what is he talking about? Why would your brother want to kill father?” he asked. Though she divulged much about her past she could not tell him everything, she told him of how she met his father but not under the exact circumstances they had married, she did not wanting him thinking any less of her or Rhaegar. “He was under the impression your father took me against my will.” Lyanna admitted. 

“Why would he think that?” Jacaerys said, confused.

She bit her cheek before speaking, “I may have been betrothed to another man and your father was married to another woman.” 

“It was quite the scandal,” added Ser Oswell with a smirk on his face. “So scandalous that the realm thought the prince must have absconded with her.”

The distasteful implication did not sit well with Jace, “So what, people think I was born of rape? Even my own uncle?” Jacaerys said with dismay. 

“We’ll know soon enough if Lord Reed is right and he holds Moat Cailin.” Ser Arthur interrupted. They saw the towers off in the distance, specifically the tallest one known as the Children’s Tower, they were getting quite close.

“So we should be expecting a fight then?” her son asked.

”You bet your green arse we should.” Ser Oswell said bluntly.

Jacaerys’ weary only grew every time the knight spoke, “I have no wish fight my uncle,” he said. “I just wanted to know my mother’s family, learn who I am and where she comes from without hearing it second hand.”

“I thought the whole point of this journey was cause a bird told you to find him.” Ser Oswell said mockingly. Her son as amused by the knight’s jape, his face remaining cold. “Make your jokes,” Jacaerys replied, “And it was a three eyed crow if you must know.”

“Bird, crow same thing regardless we’d be fools to think it won’t come to fighting. The last time we came across a Stark we had a battle to the death.”

“That was seventeen years ago.” Ser Arthur murmured.

Their words only increased her anxiety, she began to wonder if she had really thought all this through, was she making a mistake returning home. She knows the North better than any of them. “Ser Oswell is right,“ she said regrettably. “The north rememberers, I can’t be naive to think everything will go over well but they are my family as you all are.”

As they continued on their path, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell picked up their pace, moving quite a bit ahead of them, maybe it was the night sky that made so eager to reach their destination as it was the only time they could move so freely. Their eagerness left her behind with Jacaerys who was more quiet than his usual self.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” she said breaking the silence. “I’ll let you in on a secret, I’m just as nervous as you are.” 

“It’s just that I’m meeting new people after only knowing the Reeds all my life,” Jacaerys explained. “And after everything you’ve said I’m not sure what to expect.”

“We owe the Reeds a great debt that cannot be repaid, their hospitality kept you safe all these years, which was the only thing that mattered to me for so long but now it’s your happiness that matters most.”

His voice was somber and soft when he spoke, “I was happy at Greywater Watch...I just wasn’t content knowing there’s so much I don’t know or haven’t seen. When I hear you and the others talk about life before me, it just seems as you all were missing out on so much, and couldn’t help but feel my existence was holding you there.” He had his bouts with melancholy just like his father she thought, and it always fell on her to lift his spirits.

“You are my son, I only exist for you, to watch over you, protect you, to make sure you’re happy. The day you were born was the happiest day of my life and everyday after that knowing that I could be your mother was enough for me.” Lyanna professed. Jacaerys sniffled and quickly closed the distance between mother and son, hugging her tightly, she held his head to her chest as his lips moved. Even though his voice was muffled she heard him, “I love you mother.”

“I love you too.” 

When they broke apart they realized just how behind they fell as they looked up the road and the Kingsguard knights were nowhere to be seen. “Looks like we lost them,” Jace surveyed. 

“Well I guess that just leave us two.” she said in a suggestive tone. They held each other’s hands, her left in his, his right in hers, as they looked one another in the eyes. She looked at his face, even in the darkness, she could see it clearly, he was Rhaegar’s son. 

It was only a resounding howl she heard that distracted her. 

“Did you hear that?” he asked. 

“Yes, sounds like a wolf,” she answered.

Jace was just as perplexed as she was, “There’s wolves in the North?” he asked.

“Not that I know of,” she responded.

“Come on, let’s go.” Lyanna barked, holding on to one of his hands as they sprinted towards Moat Cailin. She ran as fast as she could knowing Jacaerys wouldn’t be able to keep up, but the noises she heard only increased her urgency. When she finally reached the noise, there was a fight ensuing, a giant black direwolf leaping into air to land on Ser Oswell. The sharp teeth of the wolf getting closer to the knight’s head as he tried to hold it off with his sword. It was Ser Arthur who jumped into the fray next as he kicked the direwolf off, as it yelped. It flew back but landed on its legs as it came racing at them again, Ser Arthur met it head on as their sharp claws and swords clashed, the noise bustling, the other Kingsguard knight swooped in behind to restrain the wolf by its neck, only to get tossed and thrown into his brother in arms. She decided she had seen enough and made a dash to the wolf, lifting it off the ground by its neck and slamming it into the nearest tower. The black snapped its teeth before she added more pressure. “Stop it or I’ll break it,” she warned and slowly the wolf became less hostile. “Who are you?” Lyanna growled. The black wolf only whimpered as it calmed and its body began to transform into that of a man, only she knew this man.

“ _Lyanna,” she heard him choke out._


	7. Journeys and Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Journeys to find oneself and reunions to remind oneself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to crank this chapter out today, hope you like it. Things are happening, plot is kinda moving forward tell me what you think in the comments.

**THE WILD WOLF**   
_The Drunkard’s Tower_

It was another drunken night at the Moat, admittedly most nights were barely distinguishable from others besides the night of a full moon. Yet he spent many nights here, so much so that people began to call him the Lord of Moat Cailin. In truth the Moat was just a fortress of solitude, Barrowton was too stuffy and Winterfell only served to remind him of a path not traveled. Ned was the Lord of Winterfell and the Lady Catelyn was his wife. Many questioned why would he abdicate his birthright in favor of his younger brother and the answer was simple, he was not fit to rule.

The truth of the matter is he is a beast, one without thought, untamed and dangerous, he could never be lord of anything. It was only at Moat Cailin he could truly be what he was, to free his inhibitions, to be a drunkard, a wild animal that wasn’t confined to a castle. They called him the wild wolf and maybe in his youth it was endearing but he was no longer a boy, he was a man grown, the heir to Winterfell, things were expected of him and for a time he thought he knew what it meant to rule but when Robert’s Rebellion broke out due to his actions it was never more clear that being Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North was not in the best interest of the Northmen. A part of him did not regret marching to King’s Landing and asking for the vile Prince Rhaegar to come out and die but he could not deny his boldness was a folly that came at great cost. All the men who had rode with him died along with his father as he helplessly watched. A lord should be strategic and weigh all options not act in haste but when he heard Lyanna had been abducted he was overcome with anger and acted but where did his actions get him, she ended up dying anyway.

All these years later despite having a family of his own he thought of the family he had but because he was a beast the damage to that family was irreparable. He haphazardly tried to occupy his time and mind trying to rebuild the Moat as he had no responsibility, yet he still had a duty to the North despite not being the Warden he would protect it from any southern threat as his father would have wanted.

So as he took swigs of the strong Northern ale, trying to lose his sense of purpose and self, to wallow in loneliness except he was not alone. He could hear voices off in the distance, talking amongst themselves. Two men by the sound of it with a peculiar smell. He jumped out of the tower window landing on all fours, with the intent to decide if they were friend or foe. There was only one way through the Moat and that was through the causeway so he would wait for them to come to him so he could pass judgement. Soon he saw two figures approaching that suddenly came to a halt when they noticed him on the narrow road.

“What business do you have here?” Brandon called out as he began to close the distance between them.

“Nothing that concerns you,” he heard one of them say.

“Everything north of here concerns me.” Brandon replied sternly. As he got closer and closer to make out their faces until he came to realize they were faces he had dared not thought about in years. “Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Arthur Dayne,” he stated in disbelief, closely studying their faces to make sure he hadn’t had too much to drink.

“In the flesh.” Ser Oswell replied.

“If memory serves me well you bastards should be rotting corpses lying beneath the ground in Dorne.”

Ser Oswell shrugged, “Yet here we are walking and rotting,” he said coyly.

Brandon looked at the two men, they hadn’t aged a day from when he last seen them, though they had a stench about them. “I beg to differ I could smell you coming a mile away.” 

“We have not come here to trade insults.” said Ser Arthur.

“So what have you come here for?” Brandon questioned, though truth be told he did not care what their intentions were, they would not get past him. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.” Ser Arthur answered, the smirk he wore on his face implied a jest but the grip on his pommel said he stood ready to back his words.

Brandon’s blood grew hot at the prospect, “I’d love to see you try, fair warning though the last Kingsguard I came across didn’t fare so well.” 

Ser Oswell scoffed, “I did hear about you putting down one of our brothers in arms, even more reason to kill you now.”

“What was his name again?” Brandon asked himself aloud but he remembered all to well.

“Ser Lewyn Martell,” Ser Arthur replied.

“Ah, Dornishmen, I can’t say I ever had an appetite for them.”

“Ser Lewyn was a good man and even better knight, though compared to Ser Arthur he pales in comparison.” Ser Oswell retorted.

“My brother fared well enough, I’ll make sure you stay dead this time around,” Brandon boasted.

“Your brother has less honor than a back alley whore,” Ser Arthur insulted. He unsheathed his sword, the legendary Dawn, even in the pale night sky the sword shun brightly under the stars.

“Speaking of whores, how is your sister? I much preferred her taste to Ser Lewyn’s.” Brandon digged hoping to provoke him. His words had the effect he wanted as the Sword of the Mourning quickly charged at him, he was at him in the blink of an eye. The man took a swing at him but Brandon caught the sword with his bare hand, cutting him deep. The pain only fueled his anger as the change began. Soon enough it wasn’t only his hand where he felt pain but his entire body, as if every bone in his body was breaking before he totally blacked out.

When he came to he was pinned against the tower by a measly girl who was crushing his windpipe. He recognized the girl, “Lyanna,” he croaked. When she released her grip on him he fell to the ground coughing.

“Brandon, I’m so sorry—I didn’t know,” he heard her say as she placed a hand on his back. Hundreds of questions ran through his mind as he tried to make sense of what was going on. When he stood, he stood tall well over her as he always had, Lyanna was a small girl yet she had the strength to lift him off his feet and restrain him with one hand. “How are you here right now?” was the first thing he could manage to get out.

“It’s complicated,” Lyanna replied.

“You were dead and then you weren’t. Seems to be going around a lot,” he gleaned. She did her best to avoid looking at him directly either she was ashamed of the truth to the words he spoke or it had to do with the fact he was as naked as his name day.

“You’re one of them,” he surmised. Her silence continued but the look on her face said it all when she finally was able to meet his eyes. She still had those Stark grey eyes, and didn’t look a day older than when he last saw her.

“Where have you been all these years Lya?” Brandon asked again trying to get an honest answer out of her.

“I’ve been a guest of Lord Reed’s at Greywater Watch,” his sister admitted.

He sucked his teeth and groaned, “So you’ve been hiding right under my nose all this time,” he surmised. “Who else knows you’re alive?! Ned? I’ll kill him when I get my hands on him.” Brandon shouted.

“Don’t blame our brother for a choice I made, I’m not alive don’t you get it,” Lyanna yelled back.

“I mourned you, we all did in our own way. Ned never spoke of you, Benjen is off rotting at Castle Black cause he could not stand to stay at Winterfell without thinking of you and you’ve been hiding out in the Neck with this lot.” He stared down the knights wanting to have another go at them but Lyanna held him at bay. He saw another man just beyond the knights, not a man just a boy it seemed.

“They are my family,” Lyanna replied.

Brandon shook his head, “No, no, no. You are a Stark of Winterfell or maybe in death you forgot,” he spat. “These men you would call family would call the man who killed our father brother, would cast a stone for that vile prince that stole you. No, not in my presence will you call them your family.”

“Rhaegar did not abduct me, I went with him willingly,” his sister revealed.

“Then you mean to tell me our father died for nothing, that Robert’s Rebellion was a lie, that thousands of men died so you could spread your legs for the dragon prince.” He could tell his words hurt her and when she slapped him across the face it all but confirmed it.

“You don’t think I’ve felt guilt over what happened. You want to know why I did not return to Winterfell, it’s because I was ashamed, I brought shame to my family. How you look at me right now is why I stayed away.”

“And yet here you are, traveling north.” 

“Cause it’s not about me anymore, in my shame I took somebody else’s joy away.” Lyanna said sadly as she turned to face the boy who was standing off in a state of shock. “It’s okay Jacaerys,” her voice now calm as she called to him.

The boy approached hesitantly, the first thing he noticed was his solemn face, he was no older than six and-ten. “Who is this?” Brandon asked, though he felt he already knew the answer, the boy had the look of a Stark through and through. A strapping young lad with brown hair and dark eyes.

Lyanna grinned proudly presenting him as she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “This is your nephew.” His sister answered. It came as a shock to him but it made all the sense in the world. The war lasted nearly for a year, she was missing the entire time, enough time to give birth. She was in hiding with a child, her child, for seventeen years. “Who is his father?” Brandon said.

“I think you know,” Lyanna replied looking in between them. “Jacaerys, this is your uncle Brandon, my eldest brother, the wild one as you can see.”

The boy held his hand out with a grim smile on his face, whether he was just feigning pleasantries or he was just uncomfortable, Brandon could not tell. He was sure his nakedness was most distracting. Despite that he was still very much in a very foul mood and had no room for pleasantries considering all the lies that had just been uncovered but the boy reminded him of a young Ned, of a more pleasant time in his life. Brandon grabbed his hand giving it a firm shake, he couldn’t help but study the boy’s face and there was no doubt they were kin. “Jacaerys, strange name for a Stark.” He considered as her son shifted nervously under his gaze. Lyanna rolled her eyes at his remark. ”I have a boy around your age.” Brandon said as he released his hand.

“A cousin, I’d never much like to meet him.” Jacaerys he said excitedly.

“More than one, and Ned has five children of his own at Winterfell that you’ll probably meet soon enough,” he said as he turned his attention to Lyanna, “If that is indeed your destination.”

“It is,” she confirmed.

That should make for an interesting reunion he thought. “I can’t say it’ll be a pleasant surprise, Cat will surely be displeased,” he wagered. Lyanna seemed indifferent about the prospect, “I heard Ned was finagled into marrying that shrew,” she remarked.

Brandon chuckled, “Only after I was considered a lost cause did Lord Tully think Ned the better match, though I can’t blame him many thought my life forfeit after the Mad King offered ten thousand gold dragons for my head.”

“Consider yourself lucky but I hear you’ve gone and married another tart in her place.” Lyanna teased.

Brandon took the jest well as he couldn’t help but grin, “You’re one to talk with your history of suitors, a lecher and the son of a mad man.” He replied, determined to one up his sister.

“It really pains me to interrupt this family reunion but the sun is rising and I’d hate to burst into flames.” Ser Oswell said suddenly. Brandon did not appreciate the interruption as he stared daggers at the knight, “I think I’d rather enjoy the sight,” he taunted.

She gace both of them a disapproving look, “Yes, can we find some shelter,” she pleaded, “And gods can you find some clothes, I’m tired of looking at your cock.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before and I’m sure you did a lot more than that seeing as you have a son.” Brandon noted. Lyanna gave him a knowing look before checking her son’s face who was stupefied by their conversation. A green boy he seemed, what else would be being raised among crannogmen. “Don’t listen to you uncle’s filth okay baby,” she advised. 

He held his hand out guiding them to the entrance of the tower, “Right this way.” Brandon offered. They entered and climbed up the stairwell which was noticeably narrow and leaning, one wrong step could lead to your death. “The Drunkard’s Tower,” he explained as he saw their trepidation climbing up. “Very fitting name considering.” He added as they reached the top, the very meager chamber he spent his nights in.

“Well this is lovely, very Northmen like.” Ser Oswell observed as he walked through the doorway.

“If you prefer outside I can always throw you out the window.” Brandon snipped while putting on some spare trousers he had laying around.

His sister sighed, “Would you all please,” she begged. For her sake he would not carry on with the knight no matter how much he tried to provoke him, he would focus on the miracle of his sister standing in front of him after all these years but it seemed she had more on her mind than he did. “So why is it a man with a family spending his nights in a ruined castle?” Lyanna asked.

“Long story,” he replied.

“Oh, we have time.” Lyanna replied as she took a seat, making herself comfortable. Her boy sat on the table behind her.

He huffed, making his way to the flagon to pour himself a drink, “Well if we’re to be sharing stories I’m going to need a drink.” He poured one for his nephew as well, offering it to him. Lyanna glared at him as if she was daring him to take it. “I can’t, mother says I’m not allowed.” Jacaerys said quietly.

“Mother says I’m not allowed,” Brandon repeated in a mocking tone, “Are you a boy or a man? Drink the bloody ale.” He said loudly, shoving the mug into his chest.

“Jacaerys...” Lyanna said warning.

Brandon sucked his teeth to chastise her, “To refuse a man after he’s offered you shelter in his home, you forget yourself Lya surrounding yourself with these fools.”

“It’s not much of a home really.” Ser Oswell critiqued. Brandon gave him a side eye but chose to ignore his comment. Jacaerys finally took the mug, hesitantly bringing it to his lips before beginning to drink. He winced when he was done, wiping his mouth. 

_This ale isn’t for the faint of heart._ “If you mean to pose as a Northerner, you should at least be able to drink like one,” he suggested as he began to drink his own. “My boy Harlon was only two-and-ten when he had his first real drink.”

“You sound like a great father.” Lyanna said, her voice filled with sarcasm.

He smiled slyly, “Speaking of fathers, where’s his? Since everyone is clawing their way out of their graves, surely Prince Charming has returned.” Brandon inquired. Lyanna ignored his question rolling her eyes. “You said I’m one of them, have you met others like us?” She questioned.

“Never with my own eyes, I’ve only heard news from the south of men coming back from the dead to haunt the living, feeding on flesh and blood.” He informed them.

His nephew wore a confused face trying to keep up with the conversation until he finally spoke, “Okay, what in seven hells are you talking about now? And is nobody going to mention the fact that one moment he was wolf and then he wasn’t.”

“Language,” Lyanna chastised.

“So you haven’t told him? Lying to your only son, some mother you are.” Brandon scolded.

He look to his mother, ”Told me what?” 

“It’s a mother’s job to protect their children from the horrors of this world.” Lyanna said in her defense.

“Even if the horror is yourself? You’ve denied him the truth just as you denied me it.” Brandon spat as he poured himself another drink.

“Just tell me,” Jacaerys demanded, the frustration in his voice clear. Lyanna grabbed his balled fist that lay in his lap, “I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how,” she said. Lyanna exhaled before continuing,“I died in childbirth but your father’s blood helped bring me back, the same goes for Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur.” She spoke as if it was her first time actually saying it aloud.

Taken back by the admission her son took his hands back from her own, “I’m not understanding.”

“I hardly do after all these years but from what your father told me the magic in the blood of the Targaryens can bring people back from the dead, but with that came consequences. It was blood that gave us life and it’s blood we craved above all.” Lyanna confessed, becoming flustered as she tried to explain herself, struggling to look her son in the eye.

“So where has he been all these years?” He asked her, clearly exasperated. “You told me he’s been dead all this time but if his blood brought you back then he’s alive.” He added with more vitriol.

“We looked for him.” Ser Arthur interjected.

Jacaerys side eyed him, “Does he even know I’m alive? Does he care?”

Lyanna turned his face to face her, “Your father loved you, he died to protect you, to protect us.” Jacaerys recoiled from his mother’s touch standing from the table, “How can you say that? He abandoned us.” He snarled.

“Jacaerys, please you don’t understand.” Lyanna said softly but her son slapped the cup off the table. “You’ve lied to me my entire life!” He screamed.

“Calm down,” Ser Arthur advised.

“You do not command me Ser.” Jacaerys snapped, pointing his finger at the man. Ser Arthur slapped his hand down and twisted it around his back to restrain him. “Let me go!” Jacaerys demanded. Lyanna rose from her seat rushing to her son and placed both her hands around his face to look him in the eye, “Calm yourself,” she soothed. Slowly but surely Jacaerys began to calm down, his breathing coming to a still and his face softening. “You’re frightened and angry but there is nothing to fear.” Lyanna says. “I’m not afraid,” he tells himself aloud as Brandon closely studied their interaction wondering how she could have that kind of effect on him.

“Nice trick,” he commented.

“A mother’s touch,” she replies as she caresses the side of her son’s face. Ser Arthur releases him from his grip as they return to how they were just moments before as if nothing happened.

“Seems your boy has quite the temper on him,” Brandon surveyed. “Could it be Targaryen madness or something else…”

Jacaerys scoffed, “I’m not mad,” he says dismissively. 

“You wanted to know how I changed into a wolf, it was because I was mad all the time.” He saw that he had their full attention and what he was about to say only a few knew. “You remember the stories Old Nan told us about the Long Night, men who turned to wolves to fight the dead, turns out it’s true.” He said addressing his sister.

“Old Nan also said we live inside the eye of a giant.” Lyanna japed. He chuckled at that, “I never took her seriously of course until one full moon I felt every bone in my body break then I awoke naked without the faintest idea of what happened and I wasn’t the only one.” Lyanna leaned forward listening intently, “Ned, Benjen, myself even Rickard Karstark and his eldest Harrion had experienced the same thing.”

“So you’re saying it’s Stark blood?” Jacaerys gleaned.

“You think it’s only bloody Targaryens that have magic in their blood, what do you know of the Kings of Winter?” Brandon asked him.

“I know of the seventeen kings that sat the Iron Throne and I know Torrhen Stark was a king before he bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror.”

“The King Who Knelt,” Brandon mused as he poured himself another drink. “The Starks were kings long before Targaryens ever came to Westeros. What have you been teaching the boy Lyanna?” he scolded.

She shrugged her shoulders, “There’s no maester in Greywater forgive me if I don’t remember thousands of years of history.” Lyanna retorted

“Your family’s history.” He huffed as gulped the whole mug down the hatch as the others watched in concern. “The Starks ruled as King in the North for thousands of years but they were not without rivals, one of them being the Warg King who was a skinchanger, after he was defeated the Starks took his daughters for themselves thus taking in the magic that flowed through their blood.”

“My mother maybe many things but a skinchanger isn’t one, I think I would notice if she was turning into a wolf and she’s as much a Stark as you are.”

“Just like you probably thought she wasn’t a bloodsucker.” Brandon replied.

“We prefer the term undead.” Ser Oswell voiced.

“And I prefer you not speak but we don’t always get what we want.” Brandon snapped then he turned his attention back to Lyanna who had grown suspiciously quiet considering. “The curse is only triggered after taking a life so long as she doesn’t kill anyone she’ll be alright.” He added.

Breaking her silence, “It’s a bit late for that” she says suddenly. That catches her son’s attention, “What does that mean?” He says.

“I’ve...killed before, you were only a babe when it happened when I was still struggling with everything. At first I didn’t think much of it, her death was necessary to keep you and I safe but it wasn’t long after when I became a guest of Lord Reed did I change. I felt unbearable pain, worse than childbirth, it was as if I was dreaming through the eyes of a wolf but had no control over my actions and when I woke I was naked that’s when Lord Reed had found me and told me everything that happened.” Lyanna confessed.

Her soft grey eyes met his, she was his family and felt the burden of carrying the Stark name though they had been separated for so long he still felt that connection. “Still I’ve been with you many a full moon and you never turned.” Ser Arthur said.

“It was only the one time,” she explained.

Brandon thought on it, he’s been having to live with changing every full moon since the war. If she did not, she should consider herself lucky. “Maybe it has something to do with the other curse you carry, makes you a hybrid of sorts.”

“Well that would certainly explain why she can walk in the sun.” Ser Oswell noted.

“This is a lot to take in, I think I need another drink.” Jacaerys says as he gets up to pick his mug off the ground and poured himself a drink. Seemingly forcing the drink down, he coughed after he finished, making a sour face. Lyanna went to where he was standing to speak with him., “I know I lied to you and for that I’m sorry but I was only trying to protect you.”

“I’m a man now, I can protect myself.” He replied.

“You are, but you will always be my baby boy,” she says somberly as she playfully fondled the hairs on his chin. “It’s better you know now before we embark on this journey together. Who are you makes you a target, and the blood that runs through your veins is a burden that you will have to carry do you understand?” He nods his head as she brings him in for a tight hug.

Brandon studies them, their fondness for each other reminds him of his own children that he had left behind. “Well you’re welcome to stay here for the time being, there’s a two horses tied around back you can use to get to Winterfell.” He says as he stands up on his two feet hoping to keep his balance.

“Where are you going?” His sister asks.

“I’m going home.”

“So come with us.”

“Winterfell isn’t my home anymore, Barrowton is,” he replied. “I have a family of my own that I’ve been neglecting.”

His sister frowned, “Winterfell will always be your home as it is mine.” Lyanna said and deep down he knows she speaks true.

“Maybe I’ll bring the children with me so you can meet them.” Brandon retorts.

“I’d like that.” Lyanna says smirking as she closes the distance and reaches in for a hug and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her dear. He had thought he would never see her again but here she was in his arms, still the same girl from all those years ago. When they release each other he brings his nephew in for a hug clapping him on the back.

“I’ll see you soon.” Brandon tells them before he unconventionally jumps out the window once again. This time when he lands he’s more hopeful for what lies ahead of him as he makes his way to the Barrowlands, hoping to reunite the family he had now with the family he thought he lost.

**STORMBORN**   
_The Smoking Sea_

The sunlight cast down to set a shimmering effect on the sea before her, though what lurked under water remained a mystery. She constantly heard stories about the danger that loomed outside her home. From her window she didn’t make much of it but now that she was up close she understood how one might think the place cursed. The water seemed quite filthy, and though the Doom may have happened thousands of years ago she could still smell a hint of smoke in the air.

She told herself she wouldn’t fall victim to those stories, that seeing is believing, whatever demons that may roam Valyria wouldn’t discourage her from setting out on this journey and if worse comes to worst she had a few demons of her own that being her family.

A sudden chill ran down her spine as a voice whispered in her ear startling her, “Are you scared?” the voice said when she turned it was none other than her annoying brother Aegon. She pushed him away and he managed to over exaggerate her strength by falling back into the arms of another. Wherever her brother Aegon was, Jaehaerys followed bringing about mischief but let Jaehaerys tell it Aegon just dragged him into trouble more than he seeked it.

“I’m not scared, I’m just...enjoying the view.” Daenerys stammered. She was partly lying but she couldn’t let Aegon know it, she’d never hear the end of it not that he believed her anyway. “That explains why you’ve standing there petrified.” Aegon teased.

“Looks as if she’s seen a ghost.” Jaehaerys added as he lifted Aegon back to his feet. She rolled her eyes at the obnoxious pair. “No ghosts, no stonemen either.” Daenerys shot back. 

“Stonemen should be the least of your concerns.” Aegon told her.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Daenerys asked.

“You’ll see,” Aegon said ominously as he started down the twisting long narrow stoney steps of the castle that lead to the shore. Daenerys folded her arms watching him, hoping for a misstep but she wasn’t that lucky and wasn’t particularly in the mood for his games that he always liked to play. Her childhood had been plagued with his pranks and no one was safe from them. Daeron said Aegon makes for a better court jester than a prince. Daenerys turned to the more serious of the pair, by their demeanors you would never think Jaehaerys was the younger of the two. “What does he mean by that?” Daenerys asked him.

He was non-committal, only shrugging his shoulders. She nudged him, beckoning for him to speak, “C’mon tell me,” she pleased. “I’m sure he’s just trying to get in your head and seems as if it already worked.” Jaehaerys said.

She took a long breath,“I’m just anxious is all.” Dany admitted as they both started to descend the steps together. Despite the age gap Jaehaerys was always the easiest to talk to of her older siblings. Daeron was far too cold, Aegon far too obnoxious and Viserys far too conceited. Jaehaerys would actually listen to what she had to say and there was always something about his demeanor that was soothing. “I’m surprised Daeron is letting you come with us,” he said.

“Why is that?”

He gave her a knowing look, “Cause I know my brother, he can be a bit...overbearing. I could see Shaena going along with it but Daeron on the other hand.”

“Speak the devil’s name and he shall appear,” she heard from behind them, though she didn’t have to guess who it was. When she did turn he was being accompanied by a man she had never seen before until today. “Is the bore bothering Senya?” Daeron asked.

For a moment she almost forgot who she was or atleast who she was supposed to be. She nervously shook her head no. “We were just talking.” Daenerys assured him.

“Jae why don’t you make yourself useful and tell Viserys to hurry along before we leave without him.” Daeron said clapping him on the shoulder as Jaehaerys immediately took the hint to make himself scarce as he retreated back up the steps. As she watched him she couldn’t help but feel pity, Daeron had always been a bully to her brothers since he was the eldest, Viserys had told her she was lucky she was born a girl or she would have been found him insufferable as well. Now she had to play the role of his daughter and didn’t have the faintest idea how so she basked in silence hoping to not blow her cover as they trekked down the absurdly long steps. Daenerys felt Daeron watching her and the stranger that was a few paces back did little to ease her mind.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked her.

“No, but you didn’t have to be so mean.” Daenerys suggested.

“You’ll thank me one day for being so mean, as you don’t know my brothers half as well as you might think.” He told her and he was right except they were her brothers as well. Ironically Daeron was the brother she knew the least, when she was young she remembered how nice and protective he was, he used to call her Silverbright but as she grew older they grew more distant and considering they were stuck in the same castle together, one could even presume he was intentionally avoiding her. Of course she would see him in passing and every now and then when she was with Visenya he would come to check on them but meaningful words were hardly shared between them. It’s why it made more sense for her to continue to walk in silence for the time being.

_That is if it was up to her._

“Did you say farewell to your grandmother?” He asked her, trying to make conversation again.

“Of course I did,” she replied.

“And your grandfather?” 

“Yes.” She quickly replied, though it might have been a mistake as his eyes grew wide. She remembered Visenya didn’t like her father much or was it the other way around, but she couldn’t exactly not say goodbye to her father even if she wanted to. She had given him a kiss on the cheek and he was less than receptive of it though he hugged her all the same. “I think he was just happy to see me go.” Daenerys added.

He hummed in response then she noticed they had finally made their way all the way down as Aegon stood there waiting on them. “Is your friend coming with us?” Daenerys questioned as the man had basically followed Daeron all day, he even took their belongings and placed it on the ship already, she took him for a servant but since it was the first time seeing the dark skinned man she wasn’t sure. Before Daeron could answer, Aegon was interrupting, “Dragoneye has no friends.” He shouted.

“I have no use for them, but Cleitus on the other hand will be very useful, won’t you?”

The man bowed his head “Of course, my prince.”

“Where is Jae?” Aegon asked.

“I sent him to fetch Viserys, knowing our brother he’s probably packed clothes for three moons and is making sure every garment suits him as he looks at himself in the mirror.” Daeron jested as Aegon joined in on the laughter and she couldn’t help but chuckle herself. Her brother had always been quite vain, well more than others as they all were quite dashing considering and cared for their appearance as they were princes and princesses and like to dressed in the finest of linens but Viserys seemingly knew how to go above and beyond.

“Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold have already went ahead of us.” Aegon informed them.

“That only leaves…” before she could finish she saw Viserys and Jaehaerys making their way down and they weren’t alone. Along with the two trunks Jaehaerys was carrying, the Red Woman accompanied them. When they got close enough Daeron and Aegon started to jeer them.

“Well if it isn’t the pompous prince honoring us with his presence,” said Aegon. 

“I’m glad to see he took the time away from fawning over himself in the mirror to join us.” Daeron called out. Viserys smirked at their words, “I’m sorry, were you waiting long?”

“Not long.” Daenerys answered.

“Then let’s get a move on shall we.” Viserys said as he hustled down the last remaining steps. He brushed past them which didn’t go over too well with Daeron since he was outwardly seething. “You’re in quite the hurry for someone that doesn’t know how to row a boat.”

“It’s a good thing we have servants for that type of thing.” Viserys offered as he clapped Cleitus on the back. 

“Do you take Jaehaerys for a servant as well?” Daeron asked him.

“No, I take him for helpful older brother, I know the concept must seem strange to you.” Viserys snarked.

“The same could be said about you and the concept of labor.” She knew it would be a long day if Viserys and Daeron were to be at each other’s throats and she couldn't be bothered to calm the situation. What she heard behind her also gave her pause as Aegon once again tried to charm the Lady Melisandre, the woman that this whole charade as Visenya depended on. She couldn’t exactly have Aegon charm the Red Woman out her clothes to the point her rubies released the magic that shrouded her even though she didn’t exactly know how the magic worked.

“Come to see me off love?” Aegon asked hauntingly.

“I’ve come to see the king’s will be done.” Melisandre replied.

“And so it shall without the likes of you.” Daeron grumbled. She seemed amused by Daeron’s disdain for her, as all she offered was an awkward smile to him. “My journey to serve the king will lead me in a different direction but our destiny remains the same.” 

Daenerys watched as the boys gathered one by one inside the boat, as the dark waters flowed strongly onto the shore. “And do not forget your destiny Princess, many will try to alter your path but the light will serve to guide you through the darkness so long as you serve it,” Melisandre whispered leaning into her. Dany could feel the heat emitting from the choker around her neck as the red woman adjusted it properly. “For the night is dark and full of terrors.”

Only Daeron’s voice calling for her as able to break her daze, though it did not help he was calling her by another name. “Visenya,” he shouted as it was her time to step into the boat which was quite crowded considering. After she finally got comfortable though it was a tight squeeze did the boat start drifting away from the shore into the dark waters.

“What did she say to you?” Daeron asked.

“Just more riddles,” she replied which wasn’t a lie, and she’d be lying to herself if Lady Melisandre didn’t give her pause, but she was just a means to an end. She had wanted to leave Dragonstone for a long while now to see the world and here she was, and she had to admit it wouldn’t be possible without the red woman’s help who still watched them from the shore. Soon she was nothing but a speckle compared to the other surroundings, as they rowed through the waters she saw the topless towers that were toppled over in the waters, the smoking stacks of rock that littered the sea, it seemed the only thing that withstood the doom were some gigantic statues of dragons. It wasn’t long until they had reached the ship that was meant to take them to Pentos. On the ship deck she saw the Kingsguard knights awaiting them. One by one they helped them up the side of the hull. She grew anxious not knowing when Melisandre’s magic would wear off, it’d be best to make herself scarce for the time being and deal with the consequences later up until at least Dragonstone was out of view.

“Up you go princess.” Ser Gerold said as he grappled both her hands to pull her up and she fell clumsily into his chest. Daenerys studied her surroundings as she had never been on a ship before. The first thing she noticed was the crew members actively working from hauling Viserys belongings to pulling on lines so they could finally set sail and leave the only place she knew as home behind. It seemed her family were quite resourceful as to acquire a crew this quickly and have such a large Targaryen banner for a sail. The men were bustling on deck and soon enough she started to feel the ship move underneath her which made her legs feel a bit uneasy as she tried to steady herself on the railing.

“I do hope you don’t get seasick, it would be a shame if you spent your first time away from Dragonstone hunched over a bucket.” Viserys japed.

“Leave her be.” Daeron said in warning as Viserys raised his hands in defeat to retreat to the lower deck. Daeron approached her sweeping her off her feet, holding her in his arms, “I can’t very well have you falling overboard or your mother will have my head.” He bemoaned. Daenerys couldn’t help but grin as it reminded her of a simpler time but she couldn’t help but feel guilty as it all was a ruse.

“I’m surprised you let her come at all given the nature of this journey.” Ser Barristan cautioned.

“You know I said the same thing.” Jaehaerys added.

“Mayhaps Daeron has seen the light the Lady Melisandre is always yammering about and decided to stop being so drab.” Aegon surmised.

“You’ve mistaken me for Jaehaerys, I’m not the bore you think me to be.” Daeron replied.

“Boring is the wrong word, rigid is more appropriate.” Aegon replied.

“I simply don’t mix business with pleasure. This journey isn’t about fun, it’s about family and furthering our father’s designs now if you’ll excuse me.” He said, dismissing himself and made for the lower deck. He did well to adjust through the tight spaces as they made way, he kicked the door open of her supposed room where she saw her trunks waiting for her by the bed, he entered and dropped her there.

“I suggest you rest I know you’ve been up since last night with Daenerys.”

“We just had so much to say before I left, last night on Dragonstone and all, for a while at least.”

His voice softened, “I don’t fault you, Daenerys will be alone without you there.” Her conscience began to weigh on her again as the reality was she had left Visenya to that fate, her mother or Shaena could be fine company but they were not of her age, and she was sure Senya loathed Shiera and Melisandre as much as Daeron did. So she laid back on the bed wanting to ease her mind, Daeron kissed her on the forehead then exited the room leaving her to her thoughts.

When she woke the room was dark, the small window in the room indicated nightfall had come. She surely lost track of time and her head was ringing. It seemed her thoughts were weighing on her as her head felt heavy. The creak of her door took her mind off it as some light from the hallway broke in followed by a shadowy figure.

“I thought you might have died, I was waiting for you to wake,” the voice said. She felt the bed dip as the man came and sat next to her. From the little bit of light that was in the room she saw who it was as he closed in on her face and she quickly recoiled. She saw his eyes were closed as he leaned in but when he opened them they were wider than expected. “Dany?!” He yelled incredulously. “What are you doing here? Where’s Visenya?” He interrogated.

“You can see me?” She asked in shock. Daenerys reached for her neck to feel for the choker only to feel nothing but skin. When she began to feel around the bed only to feel it underneath the pillow.

 _It must have come off with all her tossing and turning she surmised_. Aegon got up from the bed and rushed out the room. She followed after him but he moved so quick it was almost like he vanished. When she reached the deck she saw nothing just the night sky and deep blue ocean. It seemed they were very far from Dragonstone, the sea stretched father than she could imagine from every angle. Dany took in the new setting, running to the railing to look overboard see how fast the ship was moving. The wind was blowing hard, she could hear it in the sails, she even felt herself being wooshed away against her will but she soon realized it was not the wind carrying her when she found herself in a different setting, seated in a cabin room surrounded by her siblings at a table with a game of cyvasse. Aegon and Jaehaerys to her left, and Viserys in front of her, with Daeron standing to her right. “What is the meaning of this Daenerys?” Daeron hissed.

She spoke cautiously, “I might have done something I shouldn’t.”

His brows furrowed, his face was red, and his patience was thin. “Where’s Visenya?” He barked.

“At Dragonstone.” Dany whispered. He leaned in as if hadn’t heard her, lending her his ear. “What?”

”She’s at Dragonstone,” she repeated.

“And how is it you’ve come to be here?” He asked curiously.

“I might have enlisted the help of a witch to sneak me off the island,” she admitted much to Daeron’s chagrin as he ran a hand down his face. Aegon was next to interrogate her, “The silver haired one or the red haired?”

“Red hair.” Daenerys answered.

Daeron began pacing around the room, mumbling to himself.“That treacherous red witch,” he shouted sweeping the cyvasse board off the table in a rage.

“Father is going to kill us.” Jaehaerys said though his voice was absurdly calm.

Aegon laughed, “As if he hasn’t already,” he snickered. 

“He doesn’t have to know, if we don’t go back,” Daenerys reasoned but her suggestion seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“That would be treason.” Daeron retorted. She might have been deceitful but she rejected his sentiment, “Taking me to retrieve dragon eggs that are meant for me hardly counts as treason.”

“If you truly thought that you wouldn’t have gone to the lengths of creating a disguise to leave.”

“Cause I knew father would never allow it but I’m a woman grown now, I should be able to make decisions for myself.” Daenerys shot back.

“You’re a naive little girl, who knows nothing of the world, you would do well to do what your elders tell you.”

“I am a princess and if I am to be Queen one day I should know more than just the halls of Dragonstone.”

Daeron rolled his eyes, “Tell yourself whatever you like, it’s not for me to help you to defy our father.”

“Are you afraid daddy might scold you?” Viserys said mockingly, laughing at his own jest as Aegon Jaehaerys did not find it funny and neither did Daeron as his face was stone. “Careful now Viserys,” he warned.

“Dragoneye, I understand your fears,” he said in a condescending tone. “Dany wasn’t quite old enough to remember your scar.” One might think Daeron took Viserys words in good form as he had not lashed out yet but she could tell his blood was boiling and it was taking much restraint to not let Viserys rile him up.

“I do remember,” she corrected him.

“Pray tell Aegon, what were you doing in Visenya’s room especially at this hour?” Viserys posed.

Daeron chuckled, “You think you’re funny don’t you. You want to know what I find funny, such hubris coming from someone who bleeds so easily.” He said as he lunged at the seated Viserys. Her youngest brother held his hands up in defense, trying to keep her eldest at bay, “You can’t harm me, father would never allow it.”

“I don’t see father here now,” Daeron replied grabbing Viserys by the collar of his tunic.

“You can’t,” he shouted. “I’m to further a dynasty, me and Dany are meant to be king and queen.” Viserys yelped. Daenerys rolled her eyes at his words, Viserys had been adamant for years that she would be his wife soon enough. Daeron thought the idea as prosperous as her as he laughed hysterically letting go of Viserys tunic, “You as king? Our father only values strength and you Viserys are weak. You carry your borrowed sword as you’ve fought no battles, you try and emulate our brother Rhaegar and you’re almost as big a fool as him but you are a fool without equal my dear brother, you will never be king.” Daeron said harshly, his words were so harsh that the room fell silent for a time till Viserys spoke. “Just as Visenya will never be your daughter.” Viserys replied.

It happened so quickly, so fast she barely saw Daeron unsheathe his longsword and plunge it into the chest of Viserys, the strike dropping him to the ground in his chair. Aegon and Jaehaerys stood up in shock from what had just transpired, “Have you gone mad!?” Aegon yelled.

“I prefer spontaneous.” Daeron simply replied, drawing the sword out of Viserys’ chest as he calmly sat back down in his chair, “He’ll thank me later when he wakes.”

**THE PROMISED PRINCE**   
_The Shadow City_

He had a lot of plotting and planning to do. It was a good thing he was surrounded by schemers considering what the end goal was he would need as much help as he could get. It was the Iron Throne he coveted, seventeen Kings had ruled before him, his father would have been eighteenth and he would have followed after but instead the usurper Robert Baratheon sat on his birthright, he would do well to take it from him by whatever means necessary.

He knew he could not do it without his family, whether that be Targaryen or Martell. His uncle Doran preached patience, his uncle Oberyn preached strength, while his mother only wished him happiness. Do whatever makes you happy, and Rhaenys shared the same sentiment. His sister constantly stroked his ego as any sister would he presumed though their relationship probably was not as _normal_ as others as she would stroke his ego as well as his cock. You are a King she told him, to take whatever he deemed his and if he deemed the Seven Kingdoms his he would be well within his rights to take it and when he did she would be by his side, his sister-wife, his queen just as the many Targaryen kings before him.

It was easier said then done, admittedly taking the kingdoms would not be as easy as making his sister cum, though he would take the same course of action, he would be thorough and leave no stone unturned. Any advantage or avenue he could work that is just what he would do. It just so happened today that avenue was in Shadow City, the closest thing Dornishmen had to a city atleast.

When they rode through the queer, dusty town on their Dornish steeds with all the eyes focused on them, it was obvious they stuck out like a sore thumb. His golden stallion with the hair the color of fire gave him a fair view of the markets and inns. “I shouldn’t have come,” Rhaenys said quietly.

“Why not?”

”There’s sand getting in my hair,” she answered shaking her black tresses. “And I don’t like how they’re staring.” She was right in that, small black Dornish eyes regarded them in suspicion. They were garbed in layers of golden linens decorated with red stripes and red suns so they looked the part but they could as easily be robbed which is why one hand held the rein, the other on the hilt of his longsword but he couldn’t let Rhaenys think he was worried.

Aegon scoffed. “Here I thought you enjoyed being the center of attention,” he quipped. “They’re staring cause we’re beautiful.”

“You’ve mistaken me for Arianne, you’ve been spending too much time with her.” Rhaenys voiced with a hint of disapproval.

He laughed, Arianne had a quite bit of influence over him, but he was not alone in that, she was his and Rhaenys’ elder and the princess of Dorne. “Is that jealousy I hear?” Aegon asked.

“No,” she flatly denied. 

_Good._ “There’s no need to be when I can have you both,” Aegon said in a very suggestive tone.

“If you all could save me the perils of your love life, I would greatly appreciate it,” Lord Jon Connington said suddenly as they arrived at the stables. He dismounted quickly to tie his horse up or to not hear their conversation anymore. Soon they followed suit as he waited on them to finish up before he began to walk down the lowly roads. “Charming city,” Lord Connington complimented as they walked a bit behind him trying to keep up with the man. If his tone wasn’t enough to see was being sarcastic, their eyes would tell them as they eyed the mud-brick shops and windowless hovels. They passed narrow alley after narrow alley, poorly built homes and the buzzing bazaars trying to find the place Oberyn had told them about. He could have simply accompanied them himself but his paramour Ellaria had begged for him to stay with her. So instead they were here with the grumpy and serious Jon Connington, many in Dorne complained about the charmless man, if there was ever a man who did not fit the frivolous lifestyle of Dorne it would be Griff. Oberyn suggested that the elder man find a pillow house and a young lad who wasn’t as prickly to stick his cock into. Far as he could tell Griff didn’t take the advice as he was still as uptight as ever.

Griff turned the corner to a deserted dusty alley, where an inn sat beneath the second of the Winding Walls. 

_The Seven Stars._ As they entered the inn through the arched doorway, Aegon took note of the state of the common room. The palestone floors were covered in sawdust, flies were buzzing all around the locals that sat the tables but it was a pillow girl dressed in jewels that demanded their attention. The innkeep soon appeared with more mugs in hand than any normal man could carry. “What could I do you for?” He asked.

“I’m looking for a man,” Griff replied.

”We got lots of those here, girls too,” the innkeep said slyly. 

“He’d most likely be with a woman,” added Rhaenys.

“Half my patrons come here with women so you’re going to have to be more specific than that,” the inkeep replied while washing out the mugs.

“You’d know this one, keeps to himself, maybe only comes out of his room at night, a black beard, has a certain grace about him.” Griff described. The inn was seemingly deep in thought before it came to him. “Ah, I might know someone who you’re talking, might even know what room he’s staying in, but it’ll cost you.”

“How much?” Griff groaned reaching for his pouch.   
  
“Three silver stags,” he replied. Aegon flicked a coin at the man and he clumsily caught it. When he saw it was a golden dragon he smiled ear to ear. “You’re going to want to go up to the second floor, it'll be the fourth room on the right,” he directed.

Aegon nodded his head, giving a silent thanks before they made for the stairs. When they reached the second floor he noticed they had a nice view of the Tower of the Sun from the window. Griff knocked twice but before the door could could open Aegon decided to barge in unexpected instead. He found the pair of them in bed, well atleast the shape of them as the covers were raised.

“Seven hells! Shut the door,” the man yelled. “Sorry about that,” the prince said apologetically as he quickly let Rhaenys and Griff in after him then closed the door behind them. Only with the sun barred from the room did the covers come down, revealing a man and woman a bed, the blanket covering their lower halves. “You’re a hard man to find Uncle Lewyn.” Aegon said.

The knight sat up in bed, “That’s what happens when you don't want to be found,” he explained. “Yet here you are,” his voice somber, the disappointment clear in his voice. His great-uncle had been a mystery to him as he chose the comforts of the inns in the shadow city instead of Sunspear or the Water Gardens despite being a prince of Dorne. “I just have a few questions I wanted to ask and then I’ll be out of your hair.” Aegon explained.

Lewyn rose up from the bed, to no one’s surprise he was entirely naked, as he walked to a nearby table to pour himself some red wine.“I have one for you,” he said as he took a sip out the goblet, “Have you ever heard of knocking?” Ser Lewyn said sharply. “It’s a simple concept really, you announce your presence with a knock on a door and when one is ready to receive visitors they open said door.” 

“I would have knocked but this isn’t a whore house, and since you’re a man sworn to chastity I didn’t think to find a woman also sworn to chastity in your bed.” Aegon replied with the same snark his uncle had given him. He recognized the woman in question as Septa Lemore, she had been his spiritual tutor since his youth. A shapely woman in her forties, the blankets did nothing to hide her figure neither did the septa garbs she wore during his lessons. Her olive skin ginger brown hair, and golden brown eyes spoke to her Dornish blood but what house she belonged to before becoming a septa was a mystery to him as well.

She waved at them shyly from underneath the covers that she held to her flushed face. “Hello, Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys, Lord Connington,” she greeted. ”My lady,” Griff responded with a bow of his head and Aegon followed suit while Rhaenys curtsied. 

“Well I hope you didn’t come all this way to judge who I share my bed with,” Ser Lewyn said pouring himself another, as well as one for Lemore as he joined her back in bed. “Especially seeing as you bed your sister.” His dark eyes narrowing at Rhaenys. She gave him a reproachful look, “Well hello to you too Uncle Lewyn,” his sister replied.

“I meant no harm,” he said. “It just seems a pity that all of Lemore’s lessons on the Seven Pointed Star fell on deaf ears.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve gone deaf or forgotten your vows, the prince says he has need of you but you seem less than receptive.” Jon Connington said gruffly.

“Lord Connington...you’ve seen better days, last I heard you were in exile drinking yourself to death,“ Ser Lewyn scolded. “Or is it just Ser Jon now as you’re no longer a lord no more than I am a Kingsguard.”  
  
Griff simply shrugged off the words, “Call me whatever you’d like but one thing you cannot call me is an oathbreaker.” Taking offense Ser Lewyn stood up once more to approach the former Lord of Griffin’s Roost till they were face to face, “Oathbreaker now, is it?”

Wanting to get to the task at hand before the men came to blows Aegon interceded, stepping in between the two, “I’m only here so you could tell me what you know about the Targaryens in the east.”

Ser Lewyn dismissed the notion, “There’s not much to tell,” he said as he retreated back to bed.

“Really?” Aegon asked curiously trying to get a read on the man as he did not hear any conviction in his voice.

“I’m sure you see them far more often than me.” Ser Lewyn responded.

“Believe it or not my uncles on my father's side aren’t enamored with my company, like most men in Dorne except for Oberyn and old Griff here they prefer the company of the women.”

Ser Lewyn laughed, “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Anything is helpful, you and Griff know them better than anyone else I could hope to ask,” the prince told him but Ser Lewyn stayed guarded and quiet, shrugging his shoulders as if he was at a loss of words. “We could start with the infliction you suffer from, while you cower in a city of shadows to avoid the sun while they roam freely despite suffering the same curse as you.” Aegon pressed further.

“Well that could probably be explained about as well as why the island of Dragonstone is no longer in Blackwater Bay.”

“So is there nothing you can tell me? Nothing about my uncle Daeron, or Aegon, or Jaehaerys, or Viserys, even the girl Shaena.”

He exhaled, rubbing on Lemore’s thighs before he began to speak. “Daeron is cautious and driven but also has a propensity for violence, he was a rival to your father. They always competed, whether it was sparring or women.”

“And now he fancies my sister.” Aegon accused.

“He does not.” Rhaenys denied but her cheeks were quite red. “Why else would he bring you all these gifts from the East?” He asked.

“Cause he’s known me since I was a wee girl.” Rhaenys said innocently. Aegon huffed at the explanation, if it was one thing he knew from his time in Dorne was when a man was interested in a woman, he would open his own pillow house if the prospect of restoring his family’s place on the Iron Throne weren’t so alluring.

Ser Lewyn cleared his throat, “As for the lads Aegon and Jaehaerys they were always the black sheep, and left to their own machinations. The youngest Viserys was just a boy, still clinging to his mother’s skirts and following his father, as for Shaena she was much like your father in a way, very solemn and kind.”

“Isn’t there another? The girl Daenerys,” his sister inquired.

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”   
  
“Nobody has.” Aegon complained. 

Aegon took in everything he was just told, trying to make sense of it, was any of it relevant he thought. His mother had told him to be weary of them, he could understand they’re dangerous but were they a threat to him as they were family. “I mean to take the Iron Throne,” he confessed as he neared the bed post. “I can’t very well have contenders from my own family contesting my birthright.” Aegon explained.

“Myself and Oberyn will lead a group and travel east to retrieve the Golden Company to further our cause and help press the Prince’s claim and finally remove House Baratheon from King’s Landing.” Griff said confidently.

Ser Lewyn shook his head voicing his doubts, “I understand Griff you seek redemption from the war but it’s a fool’s errand to think the Golden Company would back a Targaryen.”

“Red or black, a dragon is still a dragon and I’ve never known a sellsword to refuse a golden dragon.” Aegon said smugly.


	8. Protectors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reckless acts. Painful admissions. Finding the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween and boy do I have a treat for the degenerates out there. Relatively quick update by my standards in part because the Jon/Lyanna portion of this chapter in my holster for months now, sad I know. Trigger warning, it is fairly filthy.

**THE POMPOUS PRINCE**   
_Summer Sea_

There was nothing that the eye could see, only endless darkness and he was surrounded by it, a gaping pit of loneliness and silence. The only thing he could hear was his own thoughts, and his thoughts were dark as well.

_How did he get here? Why was he here?_

Viserys had no answers, there was no semblance of time and nothing had form, so where he was and how long he had been here only served to mystify him. The situation was bleak while he was trapped in the darkness, he found that it began to stare back at him. He slowly became resigned to the darkness, becoming one with it until it became his nature. Before long the darkness made him feel warm and strangely at peace considering the grimness of it all. In that warmth a light appeared, it could have been no dimmer than a candle light but it only stretched farther around him, ripping him from the doldrums and swallowing him whole. In that light he could hear the waves of the sea smashing against a ship, he could even smell the salt of the sea, and he could hear voices however faint they were. Things became more clear as he started to remember everything, before the darkness. That’s when he recalled his death, almost like he were reliving it again but when the sword penetrated his chest his eyes flashed open.

Viserys rose from the bed breathing quickly and heavy. When he searched his surroundings he felt himself disoriented from the brightness. Though the sun peeking through did nothing for his eyes it did help him recognize the barren wooden cabin as his own, from the trunks of clothing that sat on the floor to the untouched Dornish red on the cupboard.

“Took you long enough,” a voice said that startled him. When he turned his head only to find the man who had killed him sitting at his bedside, Viserys had the sudden urge to punch his brother’s smug face so he did. He had never been considered much of a fighter before as he didn’t care much for sparring but he suddenly knew how to throw a proper punch just by the sight of Daeron’s face. It seemed he need more practice as Daeron let out a small chuckle checking the cheek he struck, caressing it lightly. “I understand why you would be angry with me so I’ll let you have that one.” Dragoneye conceded.

“You bastard, you killed me!” Viserys screamed, throwing another punch but this time Dragoneye caught it. “To be fair brother you left me no choice. My pride was wounded and yes maybe I got a bit carried away. Surely you can overlook this one indiscretion?” Daeron said letting go of Viserys’ fist. 

“You’ll burn in seven hells for this.” Viserys snapped.

Daeron smiled smugly, “As if I wasn’t going to already,” he replied. “You should be thanking me, you were weak and now you’ll be strong once you complete the transition.”  
  
“Transition?” Viserys questioned but before Daeron could offer an explanation the cabin door flew open as Daenerys came barging in rushing to his bedside hugging him, “I thought I heard you screaming, how are feeling?” she asked. He was surprised by her concern and closeness as Daenerys was always averse when it came his affections but what was more concerning was the pulsing sound he could hear coming from her neck. When Daenerys retracted from the hug, Viserys was entranced by the sound as his eyes focused on her bulging neckline, he found himself feeling thirsty. “I don’t feel so good Dany,” Viserys said weakly.

”I wouldn’t think so, you just died,” she said, stating the obvious. 

“Perhaps you should give him something to drink,” Daeron proposed. When Daenerys moved to follow his instruction, Viserys reached for her hand to keep her near. “Don’t go,” he pleaded, with a pained look on his face.

Daeron clicked his tongue as he shook his head “I think it’s best you leave before Viserys gets really thirsty.”

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t killing him again.” Dany replied with genuine worry in her voice, always the sweet and caring maid his sister. It was what he liked most about her, she had an innocence about her that was refreshing it’s why he always desired to be the one to deflower her. He felt drawn to her he found himself leaning from the pillows until he was lunging at her but Daenerys recoiled from him just in time for Daeron to step in between them. He held Viserys down in the bed with one arm then turned to Daenerys who was now standing looking more worried.   
  
“What’s wrong with him?” Dany cried.

”You’re what’s wrong with him,” Daeron groaned. “Now would you be a dear and fetch Aegon for me?” Daeron requested. “Tell him to bring Cleitus down here.” Daenerys left in a hurry, disappearing into corridor only to return minutes later with Aegon and the middle aged dark skinned skin man that had ridden on the boat with them. Daeron called the man forward with a gesture of the hand, “Cleitus, you remember my brother Viserys.” 

“I do,” he replied.

“He’s quite famished, care to offer him a drink?” Daeron suggested. The man walked to Viserys as he laid in the bed. He rolled his sleeves up to show his wrists which was mired with bite marks. The bite marks acted as a guide to where he needed to sink his teeth into. With no reservation, almost as if it was instinctual Viserys squeezed the man’s arm as he sucked the blood from his veins, trying to quell his dark desires. The only problem is the more he drank, the more he wanted, he could not stop even if he wanted to.

“Viserys...” he heard Daeron say in warning as the blood filled his mouth. “Viserys,” he repeated but this time with more vigor as he was pulling him off the man’s arm. “That will be all Cleitus.” He said to dismiss him. Viserys felt disappointment as he watched the man walk away as his thirst had yet been fully satiated.

“I can’t very well have you draining our guest, he’s supposed to last us the entire voyage.” Daeron snipped.

“Have you forgotten that I’m standing right here?” Dany said raising her voice, obviously perturbed by the sight of him drinking blood.

“I told you not to come in here and yet you still came.” Daeron responded as he retreated back to his seat by the bedside.

“Is that why you brought him here?! To treat him like livestock,” her voice filled with disdain as she yelled over him. Daeron sat there unbothered as Daenerys went on, “First you kill Viserys then you force him to feed on that man, what kind of brother are you?”

“What do you know?” Dragoneye chided. “You’re just a girl.” He said.

“More than I let on,” she replied. “And I think I’ve learned quite a bit more since I’ve been on this ship like Visenya not being your daughter.” Dany quipped as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Daeron was bemused at her boldness, “You’re starting to let on,” he said as he rose from his seat to regain his position of towering over Dany. “You think yourself a clever girl because you got a witch to help you escape so you could go on some sort of self fulfilling journey, though it could hardly be called a journey seeing as you got caught the first night but no matter we’ll be back at Dragonstone soon enough.” He hissed brushing past her. “Aegon show Cleitus back to his room, he looks a bit woozy and look after things here, mainly make sure Viserys doesn’t kill anyone.” He directed, holding the the door open for the two men to leave. 

“We can’t go back to Dragonstone.” Daenerys said defiantly, arms folded in front of her.

Daeron gritted his teeth before turning to face her, “And why is that?” He pondered aloud. “The sooner we go back the sooner I tell father what you did to Viserys,” she replied. Daeron rubbed his tongue visibly on his cheek as he took in her words.

“And tell me sweet sister what did I do to Viserys?” Daeron asked.

“You killed him and turned into a blood sucking monster.”

Dragoneye chuckled, “And who do think turned me into one or the rest of our family? What makes you think father would even care?” 

“Because you did it in front of me,” she said. “I wonder how father would feel knowing you spilt blood in front of me, you know how much he wants to protect my innocence,” Daenerys cheekily replied with an exaggerated tone. Daeron wasn't the least bit amused by her veiled threats as he stood there in silence as she continued, “Who do you think he’s more likely to forgive?“ she asked and Daeron knew that answer. “We can avoid the question and father’s ire altogether if we just continue onwards, you do whatever he asked of you and I go to Pentos for those dragon eggs.”

Daeron slowly walked back to her till they were face to face once more, “You seem to think you have leverage over me, that you could manipulate me but you’re sorely mistaken. I can just as easily make you forget as you remembered.” He snarled before quickly leaving. “It was more of a suggestion,” she said, her stance and voice softening as she followed after him but Viserys jumped from the bed, grabbing her arm, hoping she’d remain with him. “Stay with me,” he told her, not wanting be alone again with just his thoughts and he had a lot of dark thoughts, most revolving around her.

“Daeron says it’s too dangerous to be near you,” she said sadly.

“Dany please, do you take me for a beggar, I never ask you for anything.” Viserys said, his voice cracking and desperate. Although her face softened as if she was contemplating his plea to stay, she tried to shake free of his hold.

“Viserys...you’re hurting me,” she whined, so he loosened his grip and she all but ran out of the room and he chased after her.

When she raced the steps and halfway reached through the opening to the deck, Viserys swiped a hand out to grab her foot but a stinging sensation made his hand instinctively retreat. “Ouch,” he hissed. Half the stairwell covered in shadow, the other shining brightly under the sun. As he rubbed his hand to sooth the pain studying his circumstances, Daeron stood vigilant at the height of the steps as he helped Daenerys up the rest of the way. “It’s probably best you stay below, it’s not safe for you with the sun out, not safe for the crew or Daenerys for that matter.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Viserys questioned.

“Let’s just say the sun doesn’t agree with you now that you’re a vampire.” His eldest brother informed him.

“Vampire,” Viserys mumbled to himself.

Daeron nodded confirming his thought, “It’s what we are Viserys, that thirst you're feeling, this is what it means to be Targaryen.”

”You’ve cursed me,” Viserys snapped, his voice laced with resentment but Daeron did not agree with that sentiment. “You we’re always cursed”, he said. “You just had to die to realize it. Over time you might come to see it differently as we all have. In the mean time take heed of my words and stay down here less you prefer bursting into flames on deck.”

“So how is it that you haven’t?” He asked.

“Haven’t what?

“Burst into flames,” posed Viserys. Daeron lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers, noticeably present a ring with a silver band and giant black glassy stone attached.

“Dragonglass,” Viserys observed.

Daeron began twisting the ring around his finger, “Not an easy thing to come across, luckily we just so happen to live in a castle sitting on a mountain of it with the witch needed to spell it which will surely complicate matters.” Dragoneye mused. “But returning home, that’s exactly what Daenerys doesn’t want.”

“Who cares what she wants,” Viserys snarled.

“I’m not eager to face father either,” Daeron admitted.

“On the count of you killing me or being duped by a sixteen year old girl who was pretending to be your daughter,” he remarked. Daeron offered no reply just disappearing from his line of sight.

As Viserys walked back into the cabin making sure to avoid the rays of sunshine peeking through the room he laid back on the bed staring at the wooden ceiling. He felt a gnawing ache in his teeth and when he brought a finger to his mouth and felt sharpened fangs on each side.

_He wanted blood. He needed blood. What was wrong with him, he thought._

He felt his mind start to race as he got up again, feeling agitated. He grabbed the bottle of Dornish red, hoping it would help him relax. The cupboard it laid on stood right by the door and the closer he was to do the door, he could hear all the people right above. He could hear their hearts, and the blood pumping. He stared at the bottle then the door again contemplating giving it another ago, maybe if he was fast enough he could snatch or lure someone down here. Right when he meant to open the door, Aegon followed by Jaehaerys pushed through it.

“Starting a bit early aren’t we Viserys” Aegon announced as he casually took the seat by the bed, he raised his feet on it as he leaned back with both hands behind his head. Viserys did not understand his meaning till he made eye contact with the bottle that was still in his hand as Aegon eyed it.

Viserys absentmindedly threw the bottle while Aegon was still laid back but his reflexes were quick enough to catch the bottle as he quickly uncorked it and took a swig of the red. “One of the perks,” said Aegon as he threw the bottle right back.

“My brother, always the optimist. Tell me Viserys has the murderous impulses started yet? What am I saying of course they have.” Jaehaerys voiced from across the room sitting on one of his trunks.

“Some of us still choose to see the bright side of a hopeless existence, not all of us can afford to be ashamed of what we are, where is the fun in that?” Aegon argued.

“There’s nothing fun about being a beast that basks in blood.”

Aegon rolled his eyes, “You wouldn’t think that if you ever tried it,” he stated.

“Nothing you two have said has made me feel any better.” Viserys grunted. The Dornish red didn’t make him feel better either, if anything it made him feel worse, the taste of the wine paled in comparison to the red he truly wanted. Jaehaerys’ tone softened, “This isn’t about making you feel better, I’m just being honest with you as your brother. What Daeron did to you was unforgivable, what father forced upon us was unforgivable,” his brother said.

“That’s the thing Viserys, you don’t have to feel anything if you don’t want. There’s no guilt or shame in what we are and what we must do to survive.” Aegon counseled.

“But where does that leave you? With no emotions you become a shell of yourself, a monster that just wears the skin of a human.” Jaehaerys replied.

And just like that, his brothers were having another spat which was quite the common occurrence. They have always been like this since as long as he remembered though they seemingly had two very different ideals, they remained inseparable. A part of him wondered if they were even telling him this or it’s something they have been trying to tell themselves. As he watched them argue his mind began to wander from something aside from blood. Though he never said it aloud he always wanted the respect of his elder siblings, as the youngest boy he knew his mother had coddled him somewhat and maybe they thought him weak because of it. Daeron all but said it to his face before driving his sword through his chest, and he was too weak to stop him. The whole point of him coming on this voyage was to garner the approval of his siblings and his father.

_Maybe Daeron was right and he did do him a favor._

Aegon snapped his fingers which interrupted his thoughts. “And you can switch it off just like that.” He said. Though it sounded like he was just finishing a point he made, he could hardly remember what was being discussed beforehand. The only discernible thing was that it was no longer light in the room, he could see that the sun had gone down outside.

“How long has it been like this?”

“Hmmm, I’ve been eight-and-ten for nine years now.” Aegon answered.

“No, I meant how long has it been dark outside.”

“Not long.”

“I need out of this cabin before I lose my mind, I don’t think I can stand to look at just your face for much longer.” Viserys whined as he began to walk to the door but Jaehaerys quickly cut off the route. “What about my face? It’s much prettier.”

“Why are you keeping me here? The sun is down, I feel just fine.” Viserys grumbled.

“Just cause the sun is down doesn’t mean you stopped being a threat to everybody on this ship.”

“And we can’t have you killing poor Dany now could we?” Aegon added.

“I would never hurt her.” He quickly denied as he tried to maneuver around Jaehaerys but he stepped in front of him every single time. “A lie, she’s who you want to hurt the most. See as vampires everything we feel is heightened. A simple fancy can turn into an obsession. You could kill her and not think twice about it.” Jaehaerys told him.

“Especially after tasting the blood of a maid, there’s said to be nothing finer.” Aegon commented and admittedly there may be truth to their words which scared him wholeheartedly but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. So he smashed the bottle of red on Jaehaerys’ head hoping it would knock him out of his path except the bottle only just shattered on his silver gold hair as he stood tall and unfazed. “You wasted a perfectly fine bottle of Dornish red, such a pity.” Jaehaerys said as he swiped a finger on his face so he could taste the drink. With that same hand he sampled the wine with, he brought to and around Viserys’ throat, “Daeron did say use violence if needed to keep you here.”

As much as Jaehaerys’ hand gripping his neck hurt him he found enough strength to return the favor as he brought his own hand to Jaehaerys’ neck, and now they were in a battle of attrition as he saw the strained look on his brother’s face all the while Aegon was content to just watch. This went on for a while, neither wanting to give in and they were only stopped when Daeron entered the room and brought both of their arms down which was a huge relief. 

“There’s been a change of plans,” he announced. “We’re going to Volantis.”

Viserys thought to ask the question that surely his brothers were thinking, “Why Volantis?”

“Due to some unforeseen circumstances—“

“Like you killing me,” Viserys said cutting in. He would hang that fact over him formats long as he lived and according to Daeron would be forever. “Like me killing you,” Daeron acknowledged, “It might behoove us if we stopped at the richest and oldest of the Free Cities.”

“So you can change father’s plans with impunity?” Aegon questioned.

“Well I am the eldest,” Daeron reasoned.

“The eldest boy,” Aegon corrected. “And that’s only cause Rhaegar is dead.”

“Well lucky for me then,” Daeron retorted. “I’ve also already discussed it with Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold that it's the best plan for us and they’re in agreement. Besides Viserys might go mad if he has to stay in this room till we reach Dorne and I have some friends in Volantis that might be able to help us.

Aegon scoffed, ”Friends in Volantis? Dragoneye, we all know you have no...”

“Must you always flippantly run your mouth?” Daeron snarled quickly interrupting Aegon with quite a bit of venom in his voice, but no matter how serious Daeron was Aegon could barely hold back his laughter.

Jaehaerys smirked, looking at Aegon knowingly as he knew the jest he was going to make, “I guess that settles it then.” He said. 

“To Volantis.” Viserys declared.

**THE SHE-WOLF OF WINTERFELL**   
_Fever River_

They had made camp along the bank of the Fever River, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell grew restless with the contention of their travel and with Brandon gone back to Barrowton she and Jacaerys didn’t have the pleasure of her boorish brother’s company anymore. Having to spend most of the previous day held up in the Drunkard’s Tower and being that they were only able to move freely at night took its toll on them, something you think they’d might have grown used to after all this time.

 _No_. What they were and who they became she mused is something they could never quite come to terms with.

They searched the river only to find salt fish and cod much to their dismay only Jacaerys could partake. As they all gathered around the campfire, they watched her son start to sear his catch over the fire. “I have a thirst and hunger, I could very well eat a horse.” Ser Oswell complained.

“We’re seven days away from Winterfell, we need those horses.” she replied.

“It was your idea to make camp at this river, a river that flows from Saltspear.” Ser Arthur reminded him.

“How was I supposed to to know? I’ve never been this far North before.”

Watching Jacaerys bite into his food only worsened her hunger, they haven’t had a proper meal since leaving Greywater and it was only so much food could really do for them. Though it could never truly sate their appetite as it once did when they were alive, it could still keep their stomachs from growling.

“Barrowton can’t be that far.” Ser Oswell said in a suggestive manner.

“Are you daft? Surely you couldn’t be suggesting we scour my brother’s lady wife seat for food.” Lyanna scolded.

“I don’t think that would be wise Ser.” Jacaerys said taking another bite.

“Easy for you to say while you fill your belly.” Ser Oswell grumbled.

“We don’t need to bring any unwanted attention to ourselves or cause any trouble for my brother.”

Ser Oswell wouldn’t hear any of it, “Piss on Brandon Stark, he’s no kin to me,” he snarled but Ser Arthur was quick to admonish him for his tone. “Mind your tongue Ser Oswell, she is our Queen, we obey her every command,” the Sword of the Morning said. Sucking his teeth, the disgruntled knight rose from where he was seated and began to walk off kicking at the dirt. “My apologies your Grace, he forgets himself sometimes, I’m sure you can understand what our hunger must feel like.”

“I’m famished same as him, I just feel it wouldn’t be in our best interest to hunt in the Barrowlands.” Lyanna replied. She tried to think of the best solution to their problem before their stomachs started to eat at itself and their hunger became even more problematic. She had grown up in the North, this was her home, she knew the surrounding area better than anyone of them, surely she could think of something nearby to sate their appetite. The only hunting ground she knew well was the wolf’s wood which was too far north of where they were. Barrowton was just to the west of them with the Rills even being farther to the west but to the east was the Bite and the White Knife, that’s when it came to her. “White Harbor isn’t too far away from here,” she mused. “We could make it there and back in the night.”

“A port city,” said Ser Arthur pondering the suggestion.

“So we’ll have our pick of the litter,” she heard suddenly as Ser Oswell made his return back. She rolled her eyes, of course he came running back at the mere prospect of food.

“I’m sure if you scour the dungeons of the Wolf’s Den you’ll find something to your liking,” she said. It was Ser Oswell’s turn to roll his eyes back at her, “There’s no need for us to hurt innocents, the prisoners there blood flows just the same as any other.” It both felt relieving and awkward to speak so plainly about it now, she had tried to keep this side of what she was away from Jace as long as she thought possible but he needed to know of his blood and what that could mean for him.

Ser Arthur stood and walked to Ser Oswell’s side, “We’ll leave the horses here, I think we can manage on foot.”

“Try to be discreet and hurry back,” she pleaded as the knights bowed before her, then took off into the dark of the night.

As the hours passed while the Kingsguard knights had yet to return, her hunger did not wane, it only intensified deep inside of her. She felt almost rabid, her true nature taking over her.

 _It was the hour of the wolf._ Lyanna did not want her son to see her this way so she kept her distance. This was all too much for a boy his age, he should be chasing girls or fighting with boys as her brothers did when they were young. She tossed and turned as she tried to sleep, to ignore her hunger, let her mind shut down as would her body but it was not possible it seemed. “Are you well mother?” She heard Jacaerys ask in concern.

“I’ll be alright once Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell return.” Lyanna rose from the makeshift bed to look upon her son, it seemed her shiftiness had kept him awake as well as his usual dark brown straight hair looked a mess. “But we don’t know when they’ll return,” he reasoned.

“They’ve never failed us before, I don’t think they’ll start now.” Lyanna told him and she wanted to believe her words, but it had been quite some time, maybe she overestimated how close White Harbor was. Almost sensing her distress in a haste Jacaerys crawled to her shirtless, he was not yet a warrior but his body was lean and toned much like his father was. He always tried to keep himself busy in Greywater, he often would climb the trees and swing from tree to tree just to try and work up a sweat. He had so much energy that he needed to release but Greywater was no place for a prince. With the tent surrounding them and the light of the campfire still burning bright, his dark grey eyes almost looked a deep dark indigo like Rhaegar’s. Maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see. Her head did feel heavy, maybe she had a fever and was hallucinating. Most would say he had all the looks of a Stark but she could always see his father in him but it had been a long seventeen years since she had seen her prince charming. Jacaerys took her hand in his, “I want to help you, mother,” his voice hoarse and pleading just above a whisper.

“And you can by getting some sleep and not worrying about me.”

“I can’t sleep knowing you’re hurting and I can help.”

Her sweet boy she thought as she raised a hand to his face, the ever growing stubble on his face showing he was indeed a man grown, he wasn’t just a boy any longer. He raised his hand to her neck in assurance, “Drink from me mother, I can take the pain,” he boldly suggested.

“It’s not the pain I’m worried of...it’s this thirst, I don’t know if I will be able to stop myself once I get a taste.”

“I trust you, I know you could never hurt me.” Jace declared which had Lyanna deep in thought but Jacaerys’ eyes showed he would not surrender easily. “Please for my sake,” he begged. She gave in and nodded her consent as he lay next to her on the quilts and Lyanna moved next to him. Jace was spread out as she draped a leg across his waist she could hear his heart hammering in his chest, the blood flowing. The feel of his hard lean body underneath her made her cheeks red, she had not mounted a man since his father, the shame of it washed over her as their eyes met so she pressed her nose into his neck to avoid his gaze. Lyanna licked him there as her lips pressed against his pulse, “I’ll try to be gentle,” she whispered as she sank her fangs into him. She heard him let out a groan as her fangs pierced his skin, the blood began rushing into her mouth, the taste was exhilarating. It was exactly what she feared his blood was waking something inside of her that had been dormant, something so intoxicating, after years of solely feeding on animals the taste of human blood brought something out in her, something she had not felt since Starfall all those years ago. “So good.” Lyanna moaned stopping briefly but she wanted more, she felt an animalistic urge, it must be the wolf’s blood she thought.

_He has it too._

She felt Jace moving underneath her, willing himself to try and adjust so she could not feel his hardness strained up against her arse, it all but proved the act to be perverse but she still liked the feel of them together, his blood filling her mouth. It was as if all the blood that wasn’t leaving his body went to his manhood. His hands found her at the hem of her gown trying to keep it down or else her bare arse would be grinding upon his groin. Whether it was by mistake or not he began caressing the skin as her gown rode up her body. A part of her was relieved she had removed her breeches when she tried to get comfortable enough to gain sleep. And as their sexes came in contact through the light fabric that separated them she heard Jace gasp, whether it was the indecency of it all or she had drank too much, she knew not.

“Mother,” he groaned as she snapped out of the trance and pulled away from him, wiping the blood from her lips. She saw the way he looked at her so she climbed off him and buried her face back in the furs facing away from him.

“You think I’m a monster,” she mumbled quietly. She felt him behind her, his breath on her shoulders, she could still feel his length pressing up against her backside. “You’re my mother, I love you. Everything I am I owe to you, if you’re a monster then so am I.”

She was startled by his closeness, his brashness, his words as well as the deep desire she felt inside, it wasn’t right. “I should put out the fire,” she said getting up in haste, leaving the tent. She could not face him right now so she ran away from him as she ran away from her feelings.

Lyanna paced outside after she kicked some dirt unto the fire, her mind stayed at what had transpired in the tent between her son. She knew it wasn’t right but a part of her didn’t care because it felt good. She had felt weak and irritable in her thirst but once she had a taste of him she felt rejuvenated and strong once again. His blood had tasted better than anything she ever tasted and the feel of his hardening cock underneath her felt even bette, that was something she could no longer deny.

When Lyanna returned she saw something she dared not hope to see but it did not give her any pause nor did she regret the sight. Jacaerys’ hand struggling in his breeches as he worked himself over. Her body betrayed her, she found her own hand wanting to move to her sex, to slip her fingers inside to chase her own pleasure. As he moved to further expose himself to the night air, she saw his fully erect cock standing from a thatch of dark curls. As he quickened his pace she felt a bothersome thud between her legs, realizing her son wasn’t the only one in need of release.

As she passed through threshold making herself present, he moved the quilts to cover his body, “Mother, he said clearly startled.

Lyanna quickly joined him at his side, “Don’t stop on my behalf,” she told him. He just stared at her blankly. Still sensing his apprehension her hand moved to the covers to expose him but he stilled it with his own that was moist with his own essence she mused. “It’s perfectly normal Jacaerys, you’re a man grown and you’ve never been with a woman.” His cheeks flushed red from her words, as if he was embarrassed of the truth.

“I only meant—“ he started but couldn’t finish the thought as she rolled the covers back to discover his still hard cock. She examined it, wanting to touch it as it was swollen with blood. Her finger tips slowly traced the veins that led to his bulbous head. Moments ago her mouth was dry but now it was watering. “Let me help you as you helped me,” she murmured.

Jacaerys wanted to stop her it seemed, but could not yet muster up the words. “Don’t,” he finally said but almost so quiet as if he didn’t want her to hear it so she pretended not to, continuously caressing his length. “We shouldn’t,” Jacaerys pressed though his still hard cock said something else entirely.

“I want to make you feel good Jace,” she replied and that was the honest truth but he still resisted, gently pushing her hands away. “It'll only make a mess.” Jacaerys told her.

“I’m your mother, haven’t I always cleaned up after you,” she reminded him. Now it was her hand enclosed around his wrist, moving it toward his groin. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, as he went along with it, slowly he began stroking himself as she massaged his knuckles softly. She let spit fall from her mouth to ease his grip, she bit her lip watching as his hand moved faster and more easy up and down his shaft. Every time the exposed head showed itself she felt a shiver throughout her whole core. “Keep stroking it,” she demanded. All the while she was massaging his stones that were tight to his body. Not content with just watching, she took over the task for herself as she spit on the tip of his cock again. His breath hitched as she held the base of him with one hand, she twisted and swiveled his length as she added more pressure to it using both hands.

“Your hands are so soft,” he moaned. She smiled at the compliment, all his training had made his hands rough no doubt he could feel the difference. He looked big in her tiny hands too, they called her half a horse and it seemed her son was half one as well, or atleast hung like one. She recalled Rhaegar, even Brandon, for the third cock she had ever seen her son’s was the most impressive. She wanted to suck all the blood and cum out of it until it shriveled up in defeat.

“Can I put my mouth on it?” She asked as she slowed the strokes down and focused at the tip. She wanted to see him happy more than anything as his hands came to still hers not wanting to give in just yet. Lyanna gave him a brief reprieve knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold off any longer if she meant to take him in her mouth. “Can I please?” Lyanna asked again. He finally gave her a nod, consenting to her vile desires. She kissed over his hands, peck after peck until the head of his cock found it’s way into her mouth and she started sucking gently. Her lips followed his hand, engulfing every inch of him and there seemed to be a lot, Lyanna would always make sure kiss the tip of him whenever she could in between the strokes of his hand.

His head fell back, that’s when she knew she was giving him extreme pleasure but she was far from done with him. His hands retreated to his face as he groaned into them. She continued stroking him with one hand as she tugged on his stones with the other.

“That feels so good...” he murmmured and it was cruel that she still had more in mind that she believed would truly send him over the edge.

It was somewhere between a command and plead she wasn’t sure, “Look at me while I do it.” she said manically. He took his time but her boy raised up on one elbow to look at her. Gone were the dark grey eyes or were they the dark indigo she had seen earlier but one thing was for sure now all that stared back at her now, pitch black eyes as dark as the night sky. Her mouth chased each of her strokes as she took him back into her mouth, she relaxed her throat as she took him deep. Her mouth was small and tight she knows but she was determined, Jacaerys’ cock hit the back of her throat, but she kept going wanting to choke on it further. He was a young man with an impressive length, she shouldn’t be surprised at that, he is father’s son after all.

Lyanna gagged on his cock, and when she pulled back his length was thoroughly soaked in her salvia, the curls surrounding his base wet as well. Every time she took him in the mouth that’s where she wanted her lips to reach. She continuously slapped his member on her tongue and cheek and when she eased off him she leaned back on her knees to drop the straps of her gown exposing her breasts. “Touch them,” she commanded as her son hesitantly brought a hand up to her chest. He cupped them, feeling the weight of them in his palm as if he was examining them. While he rolled her round nipples with his fingers his eyes still focused on her. She moved back to focus her attention back to him but his mouth soon followed his hands as he fully rose to take them into his mouth. He lapped a tongue around her nipple and sucked hard as if he was a babe again. This all should feel wrong but it only brought her pleasure.

She realized this encounter wasn’t about her, it was about him and the pleasure a woman can give to a man, what a mother could give to her son. She had used him for his blood it was only right he use her. She placed a hand in the middle of his chest to lay him back down. She bent over his waist to place a chaste kiss on the crown of his cock. “You can force my head down on it if you’d like...make me take every inch, use my mouth as you see fit.” She suggested to him and she yearned for it as well. Lyanna brought his hand to the back of her head, more spit gathered in her mouth, she made sure of it then slowly engulfed him all over again. Although Jace didn’t do as she suggested she felt his hand in hair, but not to force her head down but so he could watch intently. He lovingly stroked all her hair to one side as his hips lifted off the ground so he could gently pump into her mouth. He was chasing his own end now, he had taken control.

“Ugh!” he cried as he writhed in pleasure, so she placed a hand on him to relax his body as she continued to milk him with the other. “Let mama see it,” she cooed. All her efforts were soon rewarded when she saw heavy blasts of seed spray into the air then ooze onto her hands, she heard him groan as she continued milking him and fondling his stones even after his climax concluded. When all was finally satisfied she took him back in her mouth to clean the remnants of his seed, then the sprawling traces of seed on his body and lastly she sucked each of her fingers he decorated. Lyanna snuggled next to him where he collapsed, she laid her head on his chest, as his heart finally slowed to normal. Words were better left unsaid she thought but she was curious to what he was thinking. She was his mother, his protector, but she had taken all his innocence in one night.

 _But he seemed to enjoy himself._ It was only then a bellowing voice from outside the tent alarmed her that was able to take her mind away from everything that had just happened, “Your Grace, we’ve returned.” She heard and she was sure it was the voice of Ser Oswell.

“I’ve had my fill for the night!” Lyanna shouted back with a devious smirk on her face as her son laid there in a slumber defeated.

_He is still a pup she mused, and she a wolf._

**DRAGONEYE**   
_Volantis_

The harbour of Volantis, one of the greatest boasts of the Volantene people who claim that it is deep enough for all the hundred isles of Braavos to fit and none would see the surface. They arrived there in about four days time and those four days were grueling. From Viserys incessant complaining, Aegon’s constant yammering and Daenerys’ moodiness, Jaehaerys for the time being was the only sibling he could stand. He knew Viserys’ transition to a vampire would be difficult but he couldn’t have guessed that he would have been such a stickler for blood. He complained about not wanting to share his food with others as if he had any other choice. A part of him wanted to leave Viserys behind when they docked when it was still light out but he knew his youngest brother was at wits end being confined to the cabin so they waited till nightfall to enter the city. The darkness after all was their natural habitat and it would allow them to go relatively anonymous considering their black Targaryen sails on the ship. Daeron told them to wrap something around their hair to conceal their identity. His father would be cross if word spread to the west that there were Targaryens in Volantis. The usurper would no doubt send his assassins after them with Varys on his council whose reach went far beyond Westeros. As they began to walk the wharves they noticed the amount of people that were working on the docks. With a closer look he quickly recognized them as slaves with the markings on their face.

Daenerys took notice as well, she had never been to Volantis, she had never been anywhere. “What’s that on his face?” she asked.

“It’s a tattoo, used to mark their status as a slave. This one is a driver.” Dragoneye explained. His sister looked at them aghast. “That’s horrible.”

“Welcome to the harsh realities of the world sister.” Daeron said, his voice solemn. The slave that approached them was naked save for a breechclout and a pair of sandals. He gestured towards the hathay, offering them a ride. They followed after him, one by one they fell in line watching him mount the dwarf of an elephant. The cart that meant to carry them had two huge iron wheels and a cushioned bench between that but appeared it could only fit three of them.

“Ladies first,” Daeron offered hoping Daenerys would take the ride but she decline shaking her, “I’m not getting on that,” she said. 

“If she won’t I will.” Viserys quickly cut in, taking his seat on the cart. Daeron scoffed at the behavior of both of his youngest siblings. “Ever the gentleman,” he chided before directing his ire to Daenerys, “Walking is a taint in the eyes of the Volantene people.” Daeron said trying to persuade her to change her mind.

“I don’t care what they think.” Daenerys snipped with her head held up high, as if to say she was a princess and could care less what the people she deemed beneath her thought which were slavers ironically they felt the same way about their slaves.

“That’s because you’re naive and don’t know the ways of the world.” 

She rolled her eyes not bothering to respond as she began walking ahead of the hathay, Ser Barristan quickly followed after her. Aegon and Jaehaerys joined Viserys on the cart while he, Ser Gerold and Cleitus walked behind them. “The Merchant’s House,” Dragoneye told him as the hathay began to move with the driver appearing to give directions by prodding the elephant with his feet.

“It’s hot as balls here and you wanted us to wear more clothing.” Viserys complained.

“Are you upset your cloak doesn’t bring out the color of your eyes?” Aegon mocked which garnered some laughter from everyone within earshot, though Viserys wasn’t inclined to share Aegon’s sense of humor. “Piss off,” he replied angrily.

“These cloaks are for your own good, we need to stay relatively unknown while we’re here.” Daeron explained as they continued on the western bank.

“You should have thought of that before making port with Targaryen sails,” Jaehaerys pointed out.

“Ships from all across the known world stop at Volantis during their travels.”

“And how many have the sails of a fallen dynasty?” Jaehaerys pondered aloud.

Daeron had no immediate response, he knew coming here was a risk but a risk he was willing to take. He thought the dark of the night would be well enough cover and that the amount of traffic the dock saw would work in their favor. There were ships everywhere coming in and out from warships, galleys, longships, cogs but none with a giant three headed dragon on the sail. “If anyone recognizes us, we compel them to forget.”

“Seems simple enough.” Aegon responded.

“That doesn’t mean I’ll stand for your histrionics.” Dragoneye warned. Aegon feigned an innocent voice, “Whatever do you mean?”

“That means no senseless violence or I’ll be telling your mother.” Ser Gerold suddenly spoke.

They noticed a crowd of people up ahead near the western end of the Long Bridge. Day or night it seemed they were destined to be amongst the commoners as the square was bustling. As they got closer, the stench of fish became stronger, they were no doubt in Fishmonger’s Square. There was cod, sailfish, sardines, barrels of mussels and clams for sale with eels hanging along the front of one stall, another stall displaying a gigantic turtle strung up by its legs on iron chains. Inside casks of brine and seaweed were crabs lathered in juices. The vendors frying chunks of fish with onions and beets, or selling peppery fish stew out of small iron kettles. He did have a hunger but it was not for any seafood so he ignored his stomach.

“Cleitus buy as much catch as you can afford and anything else you might need in the market then bring it to the ship. We’ll be staying at the Merchant’s House for the night.” Daeron said as he gave him a sack of honors. “You stay with him Ser Gerold in case there’s any trouble.”

“If there’s any it will be snuffed out quickly.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Daeron said as he took his leave and the others followed in the hathay. The traffic only worsened the deeper they got into the city between the wayns, palanquins, and foot traffic there was hardly any room. As they passed the center of the square which was marked by a cracked and headless statue of a dead triarch, Daenerys quickly raced to his side. “Fattening him up for dinner?” she inquired.

He glared at her, she was quickly becoming a pain in his side. “It’s not like that.”

“So what is it like?”

He let out a huff in frustration, “I commend you on your determination, truly.”

She smiled, “Thank you.” He continued to walk, ignoring her initial question. “So are you going to tell me?” Daenerys asked again. He pondered if he could really divulge what they were doing here or what he had planned. What trouble could arise from her knowing anymore than she already did, he could always tell her bits of the truth to keep her satisfied. “If you insist I’ll tell you. As you already presumed much like the slaves in Volantis, Cleitus is a servant to our family. He is from Dragonstone just like us except he doesn’t have the comfort of the castle and you know the doom still rules Valyria,” he said as Daenerys walked stride for stride listening to him intently as he continued, “See there’s a fishing village underneath the Dragonmount where the small folk live. Cleitus is a fisherman by trade that’s how he protects and provides for his family but there are no fishes in Valyria, nothing of sustenance for that matter. So when Dragonstone moved from the Blackwater to the Smoking Sea, their trade went along with it. So how does a father protect his loved ones from demons and provide for them, he makes a deal with the devil. In exchange for their blood, we protect them from whatever else goes bumping in the night and we provide them with food.”

“Seems fair,” she mused.

Dragoneye halted and she with him, “Do you think so low of your family?” he asked. She seemed to be actually considering the question which he took as a slight, “I don’t know what to think, my family has been lying to me my entire life,” she said after a brief pause.

“Lies to protect your innocence,” he asserted. “Despite your anxiousness to grow up we find your naivety endearing.”

She gave a hint him of a smile, “You never did explain why you changed your mind about bringing me back.” 

“Nor will I,” Daeron replied as the hathay pulled even beside them. “What are you two going on about?” Viserys asked them.

“You would know if you actually knew how much power you have now or how to use it. I can teach you all that and more once I find a proper witch that can spell you a ring.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Viserys exclaimed. Daeron watched as whores prowled for customers, merchants going about their business, slaves at the beck and call of their masters and then he saw a red priestess scurrying past, attended by a dozen acolytes with torches. “Opportunity,” he said. Daeron chased after the red priestess as she was heading the opposite way towards the Long Bridge. “Kinvara!” he called out to gain her attention. As he got closer she turned his way and all the acolytes that followed after her stopped as well.

“Daeron, what a pleasant surprise,” she greeted. The grin Kinvara wore could seduce any man if her large breasts did not. The flattering red gown she wore only brought more attention to her bosom as he did his best not to stare. “The pleasure is all mine.” Daeron replied.

”What brings you to Volantis?” she asked. He grinned at her, “You,” he said simply. She returned his grin with one of her own, but hers was much more vexing as he was a married man and could not continue to play with fire especially one that burned as bright as one of the Lord of Light’s red priestesses. “I can’t say I foresaw this in the flames,” she retorted.

“Me being here is as much a surprise to me as it is to you,” he said.

“I see, and I see you have brought friends as well,” she surveyed. When looked behind him he his siblings approaching him. “Family,” Dragoneye corrected. When they reached him he introduced them albeit begrudgingly, “This is my sister Daenerys, my brothers Viserys, Jaehaerys and...” 

“Aegon,” his brother finished stepping to the forefront, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He reached for the priestesses’ hand and laid a chaste kiss on it as her face flushed as red as her gown.

“I thought we were supposed to be covert,” Jaehaerys reasoned.

“Me and Kinvara are familiar,” Daeron clarified.

“Funny, you’ve never mentioned her before,” Aegon noted.

“I didn’t see the need to,” Daeron said in his defense, he knew what his brother was implying, and he would not entertain him any further. “Where are you coming from?” he asked turning his attention to Kinvara.

“We were just saying a prayer to our lord as we gathered around for the nightfire, asking him to lead us through the darkness of the night.”

“For the night is dark and full of terrors,” the acolytes said in unison behind her.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Daeron professed.

“Ask and you shall receive if it is within my power,” she said. “I was just returning to the temple, if you wanted to accompany me.”

“Of course,” he affirmed. He turned to his siblings, “I trust you all can find a room for yourselves at the inn.” Daeron tossed a couple of honors to the slave driving the hathay and the slave nodded with gratitude.

“I think maybe I should come with you.” Aegon suggested. Daeron took humor at Aegon’s subtle attempt but he would not entertain him any further than that. “I think not,” he said clapping Aegon on the shoulder. “Ser Barristan, I trust I can leave them in your capable hands.”

The elderly knight nodded his head, “Naturally.” 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” he replied. And children please behave yourselves.” Daeron cautioned as the parties went their separate ways. His siblings and Ser Barristan heading west to the Merchant’s house and he, Kinvara and the acolytes headed back east with the torches lighting the way as the crowds made way for them to pass. After a few moments of silence she pressed him of he needed from her. “So what favor do you have to ask of me?”

He didn’t know much about magic but he knew a few who did, and those who practiced it, the only thing they seemed to have in common were their belief in the Lord of Light. “I need you to perform a protection spell.”

“Protection from what?” Kinvara pondered.

“From the sun,” he said flatly.

“Strange thing to ask a servant of the Lord of Light,” she countered. Daeron only gave her a knowing look, “ _Zirtys perzys,_ do you have any in your possession?” Kinvara asked.

 _Dragonglass, he mused._ He pulled out a tiny sack full of the shards known as obsidian that was tied to his waist, handing it to her. She opened the sack and examined them closely. “So can you do it or not?” Daeron asked but she gave no immediate answer. Daeron saw they were right back near the harbor as they continued on towards the famous Long Bridge that the connected the two sides of the city over the expanse of the Rhoyne, where the buildings rose on both sides of the bridge, including shops, temples, taverns, inns, cyvasse parlours, and brothels. Most were three to four stories tall and each floor extending farther than the one beneath it. The topmost floors almost reach each other. 

“There are other things I require but it’s no matter, a man can buy almost anything on the Long Bridge,” Kinvara muttered.

**THE MISCHIEVOUS PRINCE**   
_Merchant’s House_

The finest and largest inn in Volantis, a four story keep that squatted amongst the warehouses, brothels, and taverns of the waterside. It was the first choice for shippers, captains, and merchants but hardly a place befitting a royal family but yet here they were. It is a dimly lit maze of a place with a hundred private alcoves and hidden nooks with blackened beams and cracks in the ceiling. The more he studied the place the more he took offense to it. Volantis was already hot and humid and the inn attracted all kinds of people and smells. “This place reeks of an old whore,” he complained as he studied the common room. “No offense,” he added as his eyes had landed on an elderly woman seated in the corners where the shadows hid her.

“None taken,” she remarked. “Believe it or not it’s not the first someone has called me that.” The elderly woman seated had a hump on her back, her white hair was so thin that the pink of her scalp showed through and her cheek heavily scarred. 

“Called you old or a whore?” Aegon questioned. Before she could answer Ser Barristan rose to her defense to reprimand him, “Is that anyway to speak to the elderly?” he asked.

“It’s quite alright, I’ve been called worse.”

Ever the knight, Ser Barristan continued to defend the old woman’s honor, “Doesn’t make it alright,” he replied. Even in is old age he was an exemplary example of chivalry which is probably why the white haired knight defended her ardently. “You get use to it in my line of work,” the old woman stated.

Intrigued as to what an old woman could do for work in a city like this, Aegon joined her at the table. “And what is it that you do?” he asked.

“I run several docks, piers and shipping lanes in the city.” she answered. Jaehaerys was just as surprised as he. “At your old age?” his brother inquired.

The old woman shrugged,“Not all of us can afford leisure even when our bodies crave it most though my sons help me as much as they can,” she reasoned. The old woman gestured for one of them to approach the table. A stocky man, his face a mass of scars fell to one knee to whisper in her ear before walking away. 

_A ship with Targaryen sails has been docked in the harbor._ Her expression gave nothing away but she seemed a bit intrigued at the news her son brought her. “Shipping isn’t my only trade, knowledge is as well. In my business you can never be to careful with who you involve yourself with,” she explained.

“You don’t say,” Jaehaerys said. And what would she do with this piece of knowledge he wondered. It seemed he would have to take the initiative in getting the measure of her. Aegon looked the woman in her bright eyes before interrogating her. “Who are you?” Aegon asked.

“Only a lonely widow,” she replied. 

“And do you know who I am?” 

“A Targaryen,” she purred. Since they were familiars, Aegon removed his hood much to Ser Barristan chagrin. “Was it my hair or eyes that gave it away?” He asked her.

The widow gave him a cool look, “My son heard from the slaves on the wharves.” Aegon turned to his siblings to gauge their reaction to her numerous confessions. “Compel her and be done with it,” Jaehaerys told him but there was more to know.

”And does your son inform on everybody passes through the docks?”

Her grin was innocent, “Only the ones worth the genuine curiosity,” the old woman said. “No one has seen or heard from a Targaryen in years, Volantis seems a strange place of all places to see one or perhaps not seeing as it is the first daughter of Valyria but what would a Targaryen be doing amongst common sailors, traders, captains, and money changers, when the Old Blood hide behind their Black Wall.”

“Old Blood?” Daenerys spoke suddenly.

“It’s what the noble families of Volantis call themselves, the ones who trace their blood back to Old Valyria.” Jaehaerys explained to her.

“What do you know of the Old Blood?” Aegon asked the widow. “I was married to one,” she said promptly. “A triarch named Vagarro, I lived at his manse within the walls for a time until he passed and I was cast out as a whore.”

Her words raised the obvious question, “And were you?” 

“Was I what?“

“A whore?” Aegon said, delighting in the old woman’s discomfort as shifted in her seat but Daenerys had heard enough.

“You’re incorrigible,” his sister chided, trying to disrupt him.

Aegon pushed her away cackling, “We were just getting to the fun part,” he told her, before turning his attention back to the widow, “Go on,” he said, encouraging the widow to speak.

”I was a bed slave in Yunkai when I was bought by a Triarch of Volantis named Vogarro.”

“What’s a triarch?” Dany asked.

“One of the three elected rulers of Volantis, chosen amongst the noble families who can prove unbroken descent from Old Valyria, so imagine the scandal for one of them to not only free a slave but love and marry one.” Although Daenerys might have disagreed with the manner he spoke to the old woman, she found herself enthralled by her story, listening intently. “He sounds like quite a man,” Dany commented.

“He was,” the widow said.

“Sounds like fool to me,” Viserys whispered. His snide remark didn’t go unheard as the widow side eyed him before continuing, “As his wife after he died, all his holdings and businesses passed to me but the Old Blood had rule that no freedman can live within the Black Wall so I had to sell his manse and move to the western half of Volantis. That was thirty-two years go.”

”Well that’s depressing,” Aegon said as he rose from the seat across from her. “I’m in need of a drink and the finest brothel Volantis can offer.”

“Don’t forget to compel her,” Jaehaerys reminded him. Aegon leaned over the table to stare her in the eyes once more, “Forget we had this conversation and forget whatever your son told you,” he commanded. He next approached the widow’s son, “Forget everything you know about Targaryens.” Aegon began to contemplate the night ahead believing his work to be done until he recalled the loose ends that were the slaves who fed them the information. “Oh and be a good lad will you and chase down those slaves and kill them,” he added. 

Offended by the precautions he was taking, Jaehaerys grabbed his tunic, “What did Ser Gerold say about senseless violence?”

“This violence isn’t senseless but quite necessary now if you’re finished, let’s see the sorry excuse for a room they’ve given us,” Aegon hissed, removing his brother’s hands as he headed for the stairs as their rooms were on the third floor. Viserys came to walk next to him, “So when are you going to teach me how to do that?”

“Whenever you’d like, compulsion is the best part of being a vampire.”

“I thought it was a virgin’s blood,” Viserys replied.

“You two are disgusting,” Dany murmured as she brushed passed them rushing up the stairs. Ser Barristan only looked at them in disappointment but kept any comment he wanted to make to himself. When they reached the third floor, Daenerys retired to her room without as much as a good night while Ser Barristan only offered them words of caution, “You boys behave yourselves now, be mindful of your duties,” the legendary knight called out before closing his door which was across from Daenerys leaving him, Viserys and Jae in the hall.

“You know I’ve been thinking about what the old crone said, and she’s right why are we here like we’re commoners.” 

“Cause Dragoneye said for us to stay here.” Jaehaerys remarked, always wanting to be the voice of reason.

“While he’s off fucking gorgeous red priestesses,” Aegon said, with a hint of jealousy. 

“He’s not fucking her, he would never dishonor Shaena.”

Aegon let out a hearty laugh, “He’s got you all fooled, I saw how Dragoneye looked at her.” Jaehaerys exhaled, “Whatever vile machinations you have planned for the night, I’ll have no part.” Aegon was disappointed he couldn’t get Jae to come along for what he had in mind for the night so he turned to the only other option he had. “What say you Viserys, are you up for some debauchery?” 

Viserys smiled, “I thought you would never ask.”

As they exited the inn the first place he knew he had to find was a brothel. The finest brothel in Volantis lay on the western part of the city but first they had to find it. They did their due diligence asking the Volantene people for directions. When they finally found the building, it was covered in fabrics of carmine, scarlet and ruby, which fit the name Crimson Silks. When they entered it did not disappoint, it was quite eloquent in comparison to the rest of the city. Though Viserys had frequented brothels before he was not the expert he was. As he compelled the madam for the very best experience possible she explained the inner workings of the particular brothel. Each floor of the Crimson Silks serves a different nature of customer, and as one ascends the building's eight floors, the price increases significantly.

“Snatch, feed, erase,” Aegon told Viserys, that is the way to go about feeding in moderation. As they ascended each floor the women became more lascivious and edible. He didn’t bother with the first floor, as none of the women were befitting a prince but the second floor and third the quality was undeniable. So they fed and fucked, fucked and fed till they had their fill and by the time they reached the fourth floor which was exclusive to maidens their cocks could no longer stand up right. Whether it was from exhaustion or the maids just didn’t know how to please a man quite yet, he could not tell as he was well within his drink as well.

By the time they exited the establishment it felt like a day had passed, they both decided the Black Walls were where they fancied to stay and not the Merchant’s House. The madam said how the Old Blood often transported their intended pillow slaves to their manses inside the Black Walls rather than make the journey themselves so they headed back east as they were ferried on a palanquin through the Long Bridge. Lomas Longstrider named it as one of the nine wonders made by man and it did not disappoint in that aspect. It is said to be able to hold a thousand elephants, and though there were no elephants presents they were the hundreds of shops that littered both sides stacked on top of one another. It was quite crowded but it decreased the more east they traveled. The gateway at its eastern end was an arch of black stone carved with sphinxes, manticores, and dragons. The road is barely wide enough for two carts to pass side by side. Right across the river from the Crimson Silks was the Temple of the Lord of Light which was located right outside the Black Walls. When they approached the oval opening of the great wall that was fused from black dragonstone built two hundred feet high, the wall that protected the Old Blood from the new, three men stood guard baring the entrance.

They raised their arms, “None of you wretched foreigners allowed.”

“Do I look like a foreigner to you?” Viserys said as he removed his cloak. “I am the blood of Old Valyria, Prince Viserys Targaryen, you are nothing but a foot soldier.” 

“Sod off you drunk!” one of the guards growled as he pushed Viserys back. His brother who did have a bit too much to drink was bewildered by the audacity of the men in front of him. “You dare lay your hands on me?!” Viserys screamed before he lunged at him biting into the man’s neck viscously instantly killing him as he followed suit with the other guard after he disarmed him and drained him of his blood. Aegon grabbed the last man and stared him in the eyes as his heart was beating fast as if it would pop out his chest, “Run as fast as you can,” he told him before letting him go. The man took off running back towards the Long Bridge even though it was futile.

“It’s more fun when they resist.” Aegon explained to his youngest brother. He watched from afar as Viserys in an instant was on the man’s back bringing him down in his embrace as the man struggled mightily to no avail as his body was drained of life. As Aegon approached Viserys whose mouth was covered in blood, another dark figure got there before him throttling his brother against the pillars of the Long Bridge.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave yourself,” snarled the man in the black cloak.


	9. Arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacaerys and Lyanna arrive at Winterfell and the Tyrells pay a visit to Sunspear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the wait. During this hiatus I was quite unproductive so I can’t say I have multiple chapters backlogged ready to update at a moment’s notice. I’m afraid that I have bitten off more than I can chew with this story as the scale of it might be beyond my capabilities as a writer. I’ve considered abandoning the story and just posting the plot points I had envisioned but that’s the most frustrating part is that I have most of the story planned out but writing it has become difficult. Though I still remain motivated seeing the many updates to the tag, I want to do my part in keeping the tag alive and to do right by this story as I believe it has potential to be an epic story centered around two epic characters and their love.

**THE PROMISED PRINCE**   
_Sunspear_

“What about this one?” Aegon asked again, it was the fourth tunic the man had brought to him, each with a different accompanying cape and he still could not decide which one suited him best.

“I like it,” Arianne answered.

“You said that about all of them,” Aegon replied wondering if she was being completely honest or was just eager to get him out of his clothes.

“And I did like all of them,” his cousin said sounding genuine.

“I’m afraid these roses don’t make me look kingly,” he admitted examining the tunic closely in the mirror. The latest tunic was silk and mostly vermillion patterned with golden flowers.

“I don’t think your intended would be too happy to hear that,” he heard his sister say.

“The Tyrells haven’t agreed to the match yet, we don’t even know what Doran extended to them or how much he disclosed.”

“Then why would they come all this way? It's not like Dorne and the Reach have ever been on the best of terms. My father even sent Oberyn away,” Arianne surmised. He knew there was some truth to her words, he only hoped they would be able to mend the fraction between the two families. The bad blood between them was well known, from disputes over land, to Lord Lyonel Tyrell dying by a hundred red scorpions in Dorne and as recent as Oberyn crippling the heir to Highgarden. Aegon stepped down from the stool, and threw down the cape in frustration. He was feeling the pressure of trying to make a good impression on a great house whose support they surely needed if he ever hoped to sit the Iron Throne. The Tyrells were the Wardens of the South, the liege lords of the Reach which was the most fertile land in all of Westeros. Their wealth is only surpassed by the Lannisters and they had ambitions to surpass them. He threw himself on the bed, hoping to relax and unwind for a bit before the Tyrells arrived. Aegon dismissed the man servant who had been fitting his linens with a slight gesture of his hand.

Arianne was soon at his back massaging his shoulders, “You’re so tense,” she surveyed.

“Mhmmmm,” he hummed, delighting in the pressure she was applying to his shoulders.

“Come on, take this off,” she directed, helping him remove the tunic and the plain white shirt he wore underneath until it was skin on skin. “Rhae can you hand me the oil?” Arianne requested.

Rhaenys got up from the bed where they laid to fetch the oil while helping herself to some grapes from the plate the servants brought earlier. She made her way around the room till she was in front of Aegon, handing Arianne the oil and offering him some grapes as she placed herself on the stool. “What’s there to be so tense about?” Rhaenys pondered aloud.

“A great many things,” he groaned. Aegon felt the hot oil ooze onto his body as Arianne’s soft hands began rubbing the oil up and down his shoulders, to his back, moving in circular motions before digging in more forcefully, knowing every nook and cranny that needed attention. Sometimes it was her hands, and sometimes it was her elbows pressed against his back but the part of her enjoyed the most was when he could feel her breasts against him. “Such as?” Rhaenys asked. Aegon opened his mouth but not to answer, holding it wide hoping his sister would take the hint and she did popping several grapes in his mouth, the sweet taste of them bursting with each bite.

“I don’t know just the fate of the greatest dynasty the world has ever known rests on my shoulders and hinges on my ability to make this Tyrell girl fancy me,” he says casually. “So I’m sorry Rhaenys not all of us can afford to be as frivolous as you.”

Rhaenys dismissed the notion with a roll of her eyes, “You think I’m frivolous?” she repeated with a hint of disdain, and he could swear her nostrils flared.

“Of course you are but to no fault of your own, you were born a woman,” Aegon replied which he instantly regretted as Dornish women were renowned for being more headstrong and daring than most.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rhaenys questioned.

“Yes, please do tell us,” Arianne said as her busy hands came to a halt.

“I only meant that you were allowed to be preoccupied with more simple things like knitting...or baking or gardening. I envy that you never had to take this quest for the Iron Throne seriously.”

“I resent that,” Rhaenys said bitterly, standing up to face him. “I more than you know what’s at stake. You were still soiling your clothes and suckling mother’s teats when the rebellion happened, when we lost everything, but we lost more than the Iron Throne, I lost my father. I waited for him to return to us but he never came all because he loved another woman and now I have to suffer as mother did to see you in the arms of another.” Aegon felt guilty and regretful, wanting to quell any worries she had as he stood trying to hold her but she resisted.

“Rhae…” he whispered but she ignored him, looking down at her feet. “Look at me,” he begged but she still disobeyed him so he took matters into his own hands grasping her chin so she could look up at him. Though she was older than him by almost three years her head barely met his chest, her dewy golden brown eyes were still slightly lidded, “You are my Queen, nothing will change that,” he professed.

“I want to believe that...I need to but your sentiments are just that, sentiments, they don’t align with titles.”

Aegon shook his head brushing the black hair from her face, “The only title that matters is the one you've had since I first drew breath, you are my sister, my blood, my family.”

Not to be left out Aegon felt Arianne’s smooth arms wrap around his upper body, feeling on his neck and chest. “I’m your family too,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “You told me I would be your Queen one day.” Arianne added, sounding very displeased.

“A man says a great many things he doesn’t mean in the thralls of passion,” Aegon japed which Arianne took exception to. She exacted her vengeance by biting his ear. “I was only jesting,” he said hotly reaching a hand to check if she managed to break any skin.

“It’s bad enough I have to share you with her but now some upstart whore from Highgarden.” Rhaenys complained.

“I think it’s fitting,” Arianne reasoned. “The Tyrells are if nothing else but upstart servants, only they’ll be serving a different Aegon the Conquerer.”

“I hope your tongues aren’t this wicked when they arrive, the Queen of Thorns is famed for hers.” Aegon cautioned.

“Oh, I think I have her beat,” his cousin said sliding her tongue over the ear she had just bitten. She managed to bring him down seated on the edge of the bed, his sister followed kneeling in between his legs. “What about my tongue brother? Would you say it’s famed?” her voice teasing as she began to untie his breeches.

“I can’t say, I may need a reminder.”

She sucked her teeth, chiding him, “I don’t think that would be proper with your queen on the way here.” His sister was right, it wouldn’t be proper but the prospect of the carnal pleasure she would bring with her mouth left him wanting. “She’s not my queen,” Aegon declared.

“Who is?” Rhaenys posed looking up at him.

“I wouldn’t be much of a Targaryen if my sister wasn’t my queen,” Aegon replied.

Rhaenys smiled slyly, her teeth showing, “Good answer.” His sister grabbed his waistband to pull them down, Arianne helped lift him off the bed slightly while applying wet kisses all on his neck so Rhaenys could completely remove the last piece of clothing he had on till he was as naked as his name day. His cock sprang forth in all its glory, stiff and heavy.

“What a kingly cock you have,” he heard her compliment as his eyes had rolled to the back of his head from Arianne sucking on the skin of his neck. He felt her small hands begin caressing the hot skin of his cock. “Doesn’t he have the cock of a king Arianne?”

“Very much so.”

“His balls are so heavy too, filled with princes and princesses.” Rhaenys said pulling on his sack gently. He felt her take them into her mouth and he hissed at her action. When he looked down his cock laid dormant on her face as her tongue ran laps around his stones. She kept going lower and lower, getting dangerously close to his arse that he tensed up. When she came back up she was chuckling, knowing how uneasy he felt when she got near there but Rhaenys’ lust knew no bounds. “So you get to have all the fun with my arse but I can’t have a little bit with yours,” Rhaenys complained.

“Are you so eager lick my arse?” Aegon asked.

“Yes,” she said shamelessly.

“Why?”

“Cause it’s a king’s arse, and I want to do more than lick it.” Many a time she told him there was pleasure to be found there but Aegon always stubbornly resisted. He would concede to her pestering one day but today would not be the day. A glob of spit soon landed on his shaft followed by her hands to spread it around, making sure to cover every inch of him. He sighed happily loving how sloppy and thorough she was determined to be.

“I think it’s my turn,” Arianne declared climbing off the bed and falling to her knees next to Rhaenys. She slid the straps of her gown down revealing her large round breasts, her olive skin always gleaming in the Dornish sun. He wanted to shove his cock between her breasts and watch them swallow his length up till he was shooting cum on her face and neck but Arianne had other ideas on her mind. The golden bracelets on her wrist clinged against each other as she began stroking his cock fast and hard, kissing the sides lovingly, her wet tongue slithering like a snake up and down, tracing the veins on it. “I’m going to miss this cock,” bemoaned. She put her arm to it, measuring it, amazed at its size. “Will you really take it away from me?” she asked, her eyes sad and fluttering.

Aegon exhaled, “I have to.”

She grabbed his member possessively with two hands, shielding it away between her breasts. “I won’t let you. I’ll go mad if you do,” she stressed.

“Mad with lust? Is there such a thing?” Rhaenys asked.

“Yes,” Arianne asserted.

“Better you mad than an entire kingdom,” Aegon maintained though he knew Arianne would not be that easy to placate. She was a princess after all in addition to being the first born daughter, there’s not many things she has ever been denied. In that thinking he realized that also applied to his sister, he knew it would be difficult to resist them but it was for the good of the realm, Uncle Doran said good kings put the people first and make sacrifices, this would be his.

“You only think that cause you’ve never seen me mad with lust,” his cousin replied. She stood up at full height though she wasn’t very tall, shorter than Rhaenys but there was no doubt she was a woman grown. She pulled down the rest of her gown revealing her full figure. “Look how wet I got just from sucking you for a little bit, no other man could get me this wet,” she divulged. Aegon could see her sticky essence covering the inside of both her thighs which made his cock twitch.

“What about Ser Daemon Sand?” she shook her head no. “Or perhaps the Knight of High Hermitage, Ser Gerold Dayne?” Arianne shook her head no again. “Not even Viserys?” Aegon asked lastly, getting the same answer. Aegon had mentioned all these men knowing she had them all before.

“Not one among them is a king,” she explained.

“Tell Viserys that,” Rhaenys commented. Aegon smirked knowing how highly his uncle thought of himself.

“Do you really think you can end it just like that Aegon?” her voice fervent as she climbed into his lap. His still hard cock rested against her seams. Her thighs squeezing him, trapping him as she leaned in for a kiss. Their tongues dancing around each other as she shamelessly started to rub him, grinding hard making his cock grow excessively harder.

“Remember when you came to me a virgin telling me about all your impure thoughts...” she reminded him.

“But you weren’t a virgin, you were guzzling moon tea far before ever inviting me into your bed.” Aegon said brazenly as he continued on. “You want to know what I think Arianne? I think you’re the one that was impure, seducing me, using me as you fit. Always using your body to get what you want like a whore cause that’s what you are, a whore.” he whispered harshly. His hand slipped between their bodies as Aegon grew frustrated with her defiance, if he was truly a king his word was final. He would make sure she wouldn’t be able to speak, so he circled around her nub hoping to only hear weak sounds rather than words. He sent two fingers, curling them up into her cunt, hoping to get her gushing. Her pussy enclosed around his fingers as he penetrated fast and she panted heavily. “You’re a whore Arianne, and whores can’t be queens cause they’re only good for one thing, being whores. Do you want to be a whore for me?” he asked quietly. Her mouth was agape as she nodded her head from his crude words and Aegon thought it the perfect opportunity to plug her mouth shut. “Get on your knees,” he commanded and she listened obediently. Aegon stood up holding his cock in hand, directing it to the hole she had for a mouth, stretching it wide. One hand in her long black flowing locks and the other holding his cock as he continually pushed his hips forward. Arianne held her breasts up giving him a better view of them, squeezing them together while the princess dutifully sucked him off. The spit coming from the sides of her mouth to land on her large breasts. He watched intently as she went to work constantly, despite the gagging taking him as deep as she could coating him in spit. Her warm mouth holding him hostage making his legs weak.

Not to be left out and casted aside, Rhaenys switched places with Arianne wanting her turn to please him. His sister was eager, always looking up at him to gauge his reaction as she sucked him slowly. Arianne grew impatient with his sister’s pace as her hand replaced his own behind Rhaenys’ head pushing it forward. Arianne was controlling and an overbearing lover so it was no surprise when she began gripping Rhaenys’ head to the point it was twisting and moving side to side. “Choke on it,” she barked. Aegon felt Rhaenys’ hands rubbing his thigh, her nails sharply caressing them as she followed their cousin’s instructions. The rubbing went to tapping which was a sign for a reprieve but Arianne was so immersed in the act she kept pushing and pushing until it was up to Aegon to retreat. His sister keeled over, coughing and breathing heavily. Arianne shook her head, “What are you doing? All that spit should be on his cock,” she scolded. Though there was strands of it connecting him to Rhaenys still, Arianne just passed a hand taking the strands of spit for herself bringing it to her own mouth as she took over the task of taking his length deep into her throat. Aegon and Arianne knew one another so well he didn’t have to hold back, knowing she could take all of him. She sucked hard and quick, her head bobbing as he grasped her neck. Arianne loved to show off using no hands, applying the perfect amount of pressure with her tongue holding him against the root of her mouth.

“Fuck!” she screamed when she finally pulled off. His cock was so slick, he amazed how much spit her mouth always produced. Arianne grabbed Rhaenys by the neck who was still hunched over forcing her to take him in her mouth again. “Relax your throat and take all of it,” Arianne demanded. The words seemed to reinvigorate Rhaenys giving her throat new life as she was now pulling Aegon forward with her hands to take him how she wanted. Slobbering all over his cock, those supple breasts were covered displaying how much affection she showed with her mouth. After a time it was Arianne licking the base of his cock and balls while the majority of him was lodged inside his sister’s warm tight mouth. They continued this pattern, switching back and forth between the two beauties as their eyes welled up with tears with Rhaenys continuously coughing up spit onto the ground which Arianne chided as a waste. When he finally came it was inside the mouth of Arianne which may have sparked a bit of jealousy in Rhaenys but luckily for her Arianne was in a sharing mood as they swapped spit and his cum in a sloppy kiss. Aegon grew tired of standing as his legs began to quiver and he directed them to the bed smacking both of their asses as they climbed up. Aegon helped Rhaenys remove the last pieces of clothing which she still amazingly had on. As great as their mouths were Aegon wanted their tight cunts gripping his cock. He watched them as if they were prey while they laid on the bed playing with each other’s breasts, giggling and kissing each other’s chests but he wasn’t at full mast yet. “You look awfully lonely all the way over there,” Arianne mused watching him stroke himself.

“I’m just enjoying the view,” he told her content with holding back for now.

“Let’s give him something to watch shall we,” Arianne directed smacking Rhaenys’ arse hard. Rhaenys turned over, bent over lewdly displaying both her holes as she dove between Arianne’s legs. His sister sucked and pulled at her intimate skin, while Arianne just moaned and pinched her nipples. The moans were exquisite to his ears, he knew Rhaenys knew exactly what it took to bring Arianne to ecstasy. Even as Arianne’s fingers spread her lower lips, he knew Rhaenys wouldn’t need her help to find that jewel that hid at the peak of her cunt and when she expertly found it she would reach her peak.

Aegon grew motivated wanting to be the one to bring them both to the point of no return, wanting to be the one that made their legs feel weak, yearning to hear his name called out. The bed lowered when he climbed on, waddling on his knees as he snuck up behind his sister placing his cock right in the line of her arse. Rubbing and teasing her pussy and forbidden hole. Though the hole was hardly forbidden, it was the only place Rhaenys allowed him to enter. Despite his sister’s hot bloodedness and curiosity in truth she was still a maid. He could lick and tease her cunt as much as he wanted but he had never felt the warmth of her snatch on his cock, not until he sat the Iron Throne she said, then and only then could he take her maidenhead so he had to settle for her arse time and time again.

He must have been just ten-and-four and she, two years his senior when he promised her he would return their house to glory but not for the honor of deflowering her. Aegon sought retribution for his family above all, his sister often spoke of lasting memories that included their father and the Red Keep, he had told her he would bring her back and right the wrongs done against them. The things men say to impress a woman and gain her affection and as Aegon grew older it was his sister’s favor he sought. Their family’s history of marrying brother to sister to keep the bloodlines pure he knew well, as well as Westeros’ abhorrent of it. Though their attraction to one another seemed natural, it was still something he denied himself. It wasn’t until his tussles with Arianne that his inhibitions began to falter. Her brash nature showed him that women sought after thrills as much as men. Before Arianne he did not know much about women except what others told him. His mother said that highborn ladies were modest and forbearing, princesses most of all but his Uncle Oberyn told him Dornish women were different though he did not expound beyond that. It wasn’t until Arianne had invited Tyene in their bed, who was one of Oberyn’s bastard daughters did he understand his meaning ironically. There was something about two women eager to please him that made him wonder, were all Dornish women like this? Was his sister?

Aegon prodded Arianne about Rhaenys, wanting to know if his sister ever divulged if she had ever taken a lover or not but she claimed to not have the slightest inclination. None the wiser Aegon kept at it, asking Arianne to speak to her personally but his growing curiosity gave him away. She told him that jealousy was unbecoming of a man and if he wanted Rhaenys he should have her, that they were Targaryens. He was surprised she was so in favor of it, he thought she might think him wicked for wanting his sister but she told him Dorne unlike the rest of Westeros was more indulgent to all manners of perversions including incest. But when the time came for him to approach his sister he found he could not do it alone so Arianne came along as she always gave him the confidence he needed. When he was finally able to express his feelings it spewed out of him, what started as an innocent crush over time became lust as they grew older and when Rhaenys told him she had felt similarly but didn’t think it wise to share them he could not believe his luck. He thought what good was it to have these feelings and not act on them, they were hidden from the world, no longer did they have conform or recompense for the past. Rhaenys revealed to him that mother had told her it was their father’s wish for them to be king and queen after them but he wanted it to be of their own choosing.

_And he chose her. And she chose him._

All there was left to do was culminate their love but Rhaenys still had her reservations. She told them that she had never known any man, that only her own fingers ever roamed her intimately. She had many questions for Arianne, some about blood, some about pain, and their willingness to break tradition. She explained that on her fourteenth name day mother told her about the importance of being a maid, though it was fanciful to think all women would come into the marriage bed as one. That curiosity struck women the same way it did men, the only difference was men were proud and always groomed to lead while most women were taught to be mundane. It was always incumbent on the man for the act of sharing their bodies to occur though it was a mutual choice. Under the confines of marriage there had been no choice at all, what was yours was his, and what was his is yours, there was a commitment of love and duty in the sight of the gods and men. That there was honor in saving oneself for such a commitment.

Despite every part of his being wanting to pounce on his elder sister he would respect her wishes, the same could not be said for Arianne. She persisted that there was still ways for Rhaenys to share her body with her brother. Of course his sister thought she knew her meaning, though Arianne wasn’t alluding to something as dull as pleasuring a man with her mouth or touching one another. What she had in mind would keep his sister’s honor intact but there was nothing honorable about it. The unspeakable act was beyond the pale, it was forbidden as was their love so it was perfect. Rhaenys was still hesitant but Arianne was more determined as she was more experienced, saying she would help them every step of the way. Ever since then it was just the three of them exploring each other’s bodies as they had been today.

Aegon recalled their first time, remembering how timid she was, now to see her unbridled just showed how they had grown together. He brought his hand back smacking his sister’s bum hard, “Ouch!” she hissed through her teeth.

“Did that hurt?” he asked, caressing it apologetically. She nodded her head yes. “Good,” he said as another slap followed and another one after that till he could see the mark of his hand imprinted on her and it wouldn’t be the only mark he left on her body he thought. He pulled her by the hair from between their cousin’s legs. “More pain? he asked with a hand wrapped around her neck.

“Yes,” she quickly replied.

“I don’t think you can handle it,” he challenged, smacking her arse again but with his free hand on her other cheek.

“I know I can,” she assured him.

“Don’t go easy on her.” Arianne told him as she was still playing with her clit.

“I wasn’t planning to.” Aegon retorted pushing her on all fours. He reached over for the abandoned bottle of oil, squeezing it to decorate his sister’s ass, he began to rub it slowly till her already olive skin shun like she had been basking in the sun at the Water Gardens. He spread the oil and spread her arse, staring at the holes he wanted to fill. He slipped his thumb in her arse to test her readiness and she did not flinch, she just looked back biting her lip. Aegon took his thumb out bringing it to her mouth, letting it rest on her tongue as she sucked hard. The act sent him to a place he needed to go, when she finally released his thumb from her mouth he grabbed the bottle of oil again this time applying some on his cock. He spread her cheeks again, spitting on the hole that was seemingly winking at him. He held her open as he pushed in slowly but surely. The oil eased the resistance that hole usually presented, no matter how many times he had her there it was always a tight fit. He began to move his hips, test the depths of her orifice. Though he had never felt the grip of her cunt he knew it couldn’t possibly compare to her arse, time and time again he found he could never last long when he took her arse. His thrusts were shallow and consistent, knowing it would be too painful to take all of him there. Rhaenys’ humming had already begun though he was just getting started. His sister had a pride about her, not wanting to let her voice be heard. Even as he slightly sped up she just covered her mouth and when he grabbed that arm and pinned it to her back did the cries begin. The noises he did elicit seemed to have gained the attention of their cousin as Arianne grew curious climbing over his sister’s body to get a closer view. She lowered her hand to the remaining part of his shaft that could not enter his sister as she stroked it. “Fuck that feels so good,” he growled, knowing if it continued like this he wouldn’t be able to go on so he pulled out quickly. He regretted it but he knew he couldn’t be selfish, part of him knew Arianne was right when she said he couldn’t truly hurt Rhaenys. “Hold it open Rhae,” he commanded and she did, spreading her cheeks as much as she could. He had to find a way to make it more pleasurable for her so he dipped his face into her backside, licking everything in front of him. Cunt to her arse, then arse to cunt. When his tongue left her cunt, he replaced it with his two middle fingers, pushing in furiously to the point she began to spray all the while slowly stroking himself with his other. He got back up pushing his cock back into her arse and Arianne reeled him in for a kiss. She must have been storing spit in her mouth as it was more wet than usual when their tongues connected. Her hands grabbing his face as she sucked his tongue then spit on his cock and went back to stroking him again. “Go deeper,” Arianne told him. He felt a man possessed now, feeling he couldn’t hold back anymore wanting to hear his sister cry, moan and beg. His thrusts grew wild as he lifted one leg for leverage.

“That’s it...right there, fuck her good,” she instructed.

“Don’t stop,” his sister wailed finally speaking but it was already too late as he was too far gone, his cock was pulsing hard as he sent at least four spurts of seed deep into her body. When he pulled out it was still twitching but Arianne did not care as she took the time to take him into her mouth as Rhaenys fell face first into the pillows. He was sensitive to the touch but Arianne made sure he could not retreat as she placed her hands on his hips licking him from base to the tip pulling off him hard. “The royal cock is clean,” she said jumping down from the bed. She walked to the window joyfully naked welcoming in the Dornish sun into the room without a care in the world. When she turned the princess of Dorne wore a bright mischievous smile on her face.

“It seems our guests have arrived.”

**THE WHITE WOLF**   
_Winter Town_

To say things would be strange between them after last night he had no doubt. The very thought of meeting her eyes brought nothing but trepidation. How could he look at her the same, how could he not think of the previous night and the pleasure she brought him with her mouth. He did not know ladies could or would do such a thing, it felt better than anything he had ever felt before and he came harder than he ever thought he could cum. He still couldn’t believe it had happened, it should have never gotten that far, he should have stopped her, she was his mother after all. The conundrum he found himself in was that he enjoyed every moment of it, and he’d only be lying to himself if he didn’t want it to happen again.

Many nights at Greywater he found his hand slipping into his breeches right before resting his eyes. The frequency of these nights only increased as he got older. He would ever so often hear Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell talk about the affections of women, but he could hardly understand any of it. He wasn’t the most learned man when it came to them, outside of his mother the only ones he knew were Lady Jyana and Meera. Being a guest of Lord Reed’s he couldn’t exactly court his daughter he presumed as it had to be breaking some sort of guest right surely. Meera was short and slim, her long brown hair always knotted behind her head making her green eyes and small breasts more noticeable and as he grew older alongside her, he began to notice her more and more. The fact that she could hunt for herself made her all the more alluring, he had wanted her for a while now and all those nights it was her he imagined in his head as his hand slid down his shaft repeatedly.

In truth Meera was very much like his mother, from appearance down to their disposition. Maybe he had been seeing his mother in her all this time and that’s why he wanted her so but it wasn’t until that night those thoughts of his mother ever crossed his mind. Jace always wondered how it was that his mother looked to be of his age. For a time he believed it when she said the crannogmen knew of potions many would die for but she didn’t think to disclose that her remedy for aging was her own death. He was still trying to digest everything, from his uncle turning into a wolf to his mother’s numerous confessions. His mother’s family was full of skinchangers and his father’s blood suckers. Both of their blood ran through his veins, he was a Targaryen and a Stark and much came with that, an unquenchable thirst and a volatile temper among other things his mother told him. Much of his life the ones he thought of as family called him sullen and brooding, and sometimes he would have his bouts of anger but what boy his age didn’t. What boy his age didn’t lust after other girls, of course the only other boy he could draw comparison to was Jojen who was odd and withdrawn most of the time.

No, it wasn’t until his mother mounted him that he had ever felt something that powerful, something so overwhelming he couldn’t think straight with her body so attached to his person. In a daze he acted rashly, thinking he could make the feelings go away if he just made himself cum, that it would prove just a coincidence his body had reacted in such a way to her closeness. But when her mouth hovered over his hard cock which throbbed in her hand at the notion, his body ultimately betrayed him, from that moment on there was an undeniable truth, he wanted her, his own mother.

He kept his eyes closed for as long as he could until he finally opened them as he was waiting for the moment to hear he was alone in the tent, he had gotten a good night’s rest despite being up all night with his mother waiting on the return of their Kingsguard protectors. When he saw her entering the tent he quickly tried to feign sleep even though he knew he would not be able to fool her for long. “I see someone is finally up, did you sleep well?” she says casually as if nothing had happened between them. Still not being able to meet her eye he just laid there in silence hoping to think of anything else. “Jace?” his mother said beckoning him to reply not satisfied with his muteness.

“It was fine I guess,” he finally replied.

“Could have fooled me, you were sleeping like a babe, must have been pretty worn out,” he heard her say, her tone suggestive and though he could not see her he sensed she was smiling.

“I guess I was pretty beat.” Jace replied hesitantly, suspicious of what she was truly referring to. Trying to think of anything else, he remembered why they were left alone in the first place. “Did Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell ever make it back?”

“They did, you looked too precious sleeping I didn’t want to wake you.”

“So where are they now?”

“They’ve gone back to Moat Cailin.” she answered. He sat up alertly after hearing that, knowing what it meant. “Why is that?” he quickly retorted.

“The North is fairly barren from here to Winterfell, there won’t be much cover from the sun so they thought it best if we went ahead of them.” she explained.

“Is that wise? Us being alone...” he started.

She came closer, placing a hand on his thigh, “We’ll be fine, I won’t bite.” his mother teased, he knows she meant well trying to ease his apprehension but when her hand started rubbing his thigh he couldn’t help but feel tense.

“I only meant,” he paused. “Us being alone, is it safe for us? They’re our sworn protectors.”

She smirked at his worry, “I think I can protect us well enough, besides it’ll only be a couple of days, we have the horses, we’ll make for White Harbor and sail the rest of the way to Winterfell.”

“Sail?”

“They made arrangements for us last night. We can take a boat up the White Knife that will lead us to Winterfell,” she informed him as he still didn’t know much about the North. She stood up using him as leverage, he couldn’t help but notice how close her chest got to his face as she rose. “So ready yourself, I’ll show you how to properly ride.”

She looked majestic astride a horse, she seemed right at home. Her hair blowing in the wind, the way her breasts bounced with each gallop where he was very much a work in progress. The horse he rode didn’t do anything he told it, when he wanted to go right it veered left, when he wanted to go faster it continued at its slow pace. Every now and then she would have to grab the reins to set him back right, riding as close as she could trying to teach him. “Guide the horse, don’t let it guide you, remember you’re the rider,” she advised. Mother made everything look simple, riding with ease showing how skillful she was. Everytime he felt hopeless she would encourage him, saying it was in his blood to be a great rider. After a while he started to get better, soon he was keeping pace with her, chasing after her, making a game of it. They were racing and laughing, enjoying their time together. The change of pace was refreshing, at Greywater he was cooped up in the castle now he was riding a horse out in the open field.

“See you're a natural,” his mother complimented wearing a proud smile. Jace always lived for her praise, constantly finding ways to gain her attention and admiration since he was a boy. He wanted to live up to her expectations as she always was quick to remind him what was to be expected of a prince. Not only was he her only child but her only reminder of his father. Burdened with the legacy his father left behind and with him gone, he was all she had left. Separated from the rest of the world and all they had was each other.

Side by side they rode together for more than half a day eager to reach their destination. It was just past point of dusk when they finally did seemingly arrive, the sky was orange and the sun descending from the east and just beyond the horizon on the eastern side of the shore laid the harbor. He’d never seen anything like it. He saw dozens of ships anchored in the inlet in front of the massive palestone white wall that surrounded the city behind it. As they closed in on the river, the the horses grew uneasy as they pulled up. It only took a couple paces after dismounting the horses for the stream to become fully visible. “So that’s White Harbor.” Jacaerys surveyed with the reins wrapped around his hands. She gave a slight nod confirming his thought as she pointed off in the distance, “And on that hill sits New Castle, home to the Manderlys. I used to visit ever so often when I was a little girl.”

Jacaerys couldn’t help but feel astonished and curious, the city and port was so large, it must be crawling with people from all over but with people came a danger of being seen or even worse, recognized. So as they stood on the bank of the White Knife to give the horses a drink did they notice two men who were seemingly waiting there off to the side of them near a cottage. As Jacaerys tried to pay them no mind he saw them staring in their direction. “Is it a good idea for us to be here?” Jace inquired knowing they wouldn’t have the dark of night to cover them yet.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” she asked.

“Aren’t you worried someone might recognize you?”

“We won’t go into the city if that’s what you were thinking,” she said trying to alleviate any apprehension he might be feeling. “Besides I doubt anyone remembers what Lyanna Stark looks like,” she whispered covering her mouth. As they talked amongst themselves, rubbing the mane of the horses while they quenched their thirst one of the men down by the bank cautiously walked towards them. Jacaerys did everything to ignore as he kneeled down next to his horse scooping water out so the horse could drink directly from his hand before throwing some water on his own face as a refresher. Only after several scoops of water did he notice how close the man had gotten to them and what he said next garnered his full attention. “Do you mean to cross?” the stranger asked. Jacaerys’ ears perked hearing the question before rising to his feet then looking to his mother to gauge her reaction. “Actually we were wondering if you would take us up the river to Winterfell,” his mother pondered aloud.

“Winterfell...” he stammered. “You must be them.”

“Must be who?” Jacaerys questioned.

“We’ve been waiting here for a young boy and a girl to arrive, and we’re to offer them a ride,” the grizzly man announced. His mother gave him a knowing look, the man he had to be referring to was Ser Oswell or Ser Arthur. “We’ve been here since late last night, haven't we Therry.” As if he was summoned the younger of the two made his approach as well, he looked no older than himself.

“We couldn’t leave even if we wanted to.”

“Of course not, I’m sure you feel compelled to stay,” his mother stated. The boy looked at her with a face of confusion. “You feel obligated to carry out this task and you have no inclination as to why.” she explained further and the boy just absentmindedly nodded.

“I thought it strange too,” he replied as he began rolling up the sleeve of his tunic revealing puncture marks on his wrist. “I believe I’m to offer you a drink now.” He saw his mother’s eyes darken, where it was once white was now blood red with her fangs jutting out from her mouth. She seemed as if she was ready to pounce on his still open wound as she took his arm in her grasp but she suddenly stopped, looking up at him as if she was asking for his approval. He watched the display closely, recalling the night before when it was he who she drank from.

 _She drinks human blood_. And as disturbing as the sight was, her delight in another’s pain, he quickly came to accept it. The pain inflicted was momentary but their bond was eternal, nothing has changed since the revelation, she was still his loving mother and he her son. So as he watched her have her fill, the discomfort on the face of the man’s blood she sucked didn’t matter to him as long as his mother’s needs were satisfied. When she pulled off him, she wiped her lips with her thumb exhaling in relief. “Thank you...Therry was it?”

He just nodded his head in response as he grimaced leering at his fresh wound, “It’s no matter,” he replied as he pulled his sleeve back down to conceal it. When Jacaerys regarded his mother he could see a hint of shame in her face before she turned her attention back to the horses which were now being tended to by the elder man.

“So will you take us then? To Winterfell?” Jacaerys asked.

“Me? Winterfell is a ways away, my arms would surely give out before sunrise. It’ll be Therry that takes you.”

“So would you watch over these two for me then?” his mother asked in regard to the horses. She looked very hesitant to part with hers as she continued to stroke it’s brown mane lovingly before giving it a kiss. “They’ll make for good company while your son is away.”

“He’s not my father,” Therry corrected.

“Thank the gods.” The elder man japed as he took the reins from mother and offered her a light smile before leading the horses back to the modest cottage that laid near the bank.

“I’ve never even laid eyes on him before last night, just my luck.” Therry stressed as he stepped into the boat. Jace followed in after him then was preceded by his mother. As they squeezed into the narrow vessel, Therry was at the bow of the ship oars in hand while his mother sat with her back to him at the stern. After he undid the rope that tied the boat to the bank did Therry push off from the river bank to propel them in the heart of the river. They moved steadily through the waters with Therry doing most of the work, sculling in the opposite direction which he faced as they travel up the stream. He watched as the oars swept through the water of the White Knife. Jace was more used to the calmer and quiet nature of the Neck in his time at Greywater as he was able to be more aloof not having to worry about the water displacing them. It was clear Therry was not afforded this luxury as this contention of travel proved strenuous by the strained face he made with every sweep of the oars. Jace wondered how long he would be able to keep up this effort considering how far Winterfell was, which he didn’t know exactly. “Think we’ll make it by sunrise?” Jace asked his mother.

She smiled, “We’ll be lucky to get there in a day or two and that’s if his arms don’t tire out before then. We’re still a ways away, we’ll see Castle Cerwyn before we see Winterfell’s walls.” Jacaerys sighed signaling his disappointment, he couldn’t quell the anticipation to see the thick high double walls his mother previously described. “Still faster than on a horse’s back.” She mumbled.

“I think I’d prefer the back of a horse than watching this.” Jacaerys said gesturing towards Therry. She chuckled softly before leaning her back into him.

“You’re always welcome to help.” Therry replied still rowing to his heart’s content. “It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

“I’m sure it is, and we appreciate your efforts to bring us home.” Her voice patronizing as she placed a reassuring hand over Therry’s while he continued to row before she went leaning back into Jacaerys. “Now I think I’m going to rest my eyes just for a little.” She says, her head digging into his chest as she tried to get as comfortable as the hull of the boat would allow. Every passing moment she adjusted further until her head was resting in his lap as she curled up. He beckoned for his manhood to stay rested as well but the more he concentrated on keeping it that way, the more he recalled the last time her head was that near to that part of him. So he tried to think of anything else, distract himself with the sounds of the river, counting each pass of the oars. Sooner or later he was lulled to sleep by the repeated sloshing as well as the chill in the air and the next thing he knew he didn’t remember closing his eyes.

When he opened his eyes, wiping the sleep from them, Jace studied his surroundings seeing it was dark and barely recognizable which added to his confusion but realizing they were still on the move as the oars still turned with Therry pressing on and the weight of his mother’s head still rested on his crotch. “Do you know where you’re going?” Jacaerys asked quietly.

“Your lady friend said Winterfell.”

“Yes but do you know how to get there?”

“If I’m to be completely honest with you, we’ve just been drifting aimlessly for hours,” Therry admitted.

“So we’re lost and you didn’t think to wake us,” Jacaerys shot back.

“Well you and your lady friend seemed so at peace together, I didn’t want to disturb you.” Jacaerys felt his throat tighten slightly at the man’s words before he could muster any answer. “She’s not my lady friend, she’s my mother.” Jace readily corrected but he soon realized his mistake.

“Your mother?! She hardly looks any older than you,” he challenged. Which was the crux of the problem. “It’s the potions she drank back in the Neck, they work miracles,” Jacaerys lied, the same lie his mother used to dupe him for all these years, hoping it would put an end to the questioning.

“Here I thought the only thing crannogmen were good for were eating frogs and making mud pies.”

Jacaerys didn’t care for the insult shooting him a condemning look, “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

“I know but what choice did I have I’ve never been anywhere outside of White Harbor.” Therry replied.

“Crannogmen are a reclusive people but they’re just as capable a warrior and hunter as anyone else in the North.”

“My mother has taught me everything I know and she’s only a washer woman, not a highborn lady like yours.”

“What makes you think she’s highborn, she’s barely spoken a few words to you.”

“She said you were going home to Winterfell, everyone knows the Starks live there, even a lowly turnkey like me.”

“A lowly turnkey with no sense of direction,” Jacaerys chastised.

Therry scoffed, taking offense, “I never claimed to be some great navigator, all I know is Winterfell is north of here and that’s where I’ve been rowing,” he hissed as he began rowing with more aggression. Jace quickly began to regret his chide letting them both stew in silence as their tempers calmed. This could all be resolved if his mother would wake up, she would know what to do or what to say but she was still out cold resting on him despite their back and forth.

“So you two are Starks?” Therry asked, breaking their brief silence.

“Must you ask so many questions.”

“Just trying to make conversation.”

“Think I preferred the silence,” Jacaerys quipped.

“You only say that cause you haven’t been rowing in complete silence for hours on end,” Therry grumbled. Jacaerys conceded that it would be best to placate him since Therry was going above and beyond to help them but he wouldn’t divulge anything more about he or his mother. Ser Arthur had once told him that people mostly wanted to hear themselves speak, women most of all so he decided to let Therry talk to his heart’s content as he feigned interest for however long. And talk he did. Therry spoke of wanting to go off to war when he was old enough, to fight in battles and become a knight but knighthood wasn’t common in the North because of the Northmen’s faith in the old gods but luckily for him House Manderly still kept to the faith of the seven. He also had plenty to say about his mother, mostly complaints, apparently she was bedding two of the guardsmen, he confided. The men were on different watches and neither knew about the other, but one day one man or the other might puzzle it together, and then there would be blood. Jace couldn’t help but think of his own mother who was still fast asleep in his lap, which they could no longer afford as they had reached an impasse with the river separating into two streams, one westward and one to the east. So he shook her as gently as possible as they came to a standstill in the heavy waters, she was disoriented and only offered a mumble for them to keep left before closing her eyes again. So they followed her instructions and continued on the westward path until Therry’s arms finally gave out and they came to rest at the river bank. There they waited till the sun rose once again, breaking their fast as Jace hunted down a rabbit for both he and Therry to share while his mother drank from their lowly turnkey.

Jacaerys could hardly get a read on him, he behaved in a manner as if the whole ordeal was natural, if his blood being sucked bothered him he couldn’t tell outside of the grimaces when her teeth sank into his skin. The day remained mostly the same when they weren’t resting as they were back on the boat but this time Jace gave a hand with the oars giving Therry a well needed break as he described. Farther and farther north they traveled, the currents pushing them to a place he hoped and wished to call home. It took two whole days for them to reach the kingsroad, from there they had to proceed overland. They said their goodbyes to Therry which made the reality dawn on him that they were closing in on Winterfell, and though they still had half a day’s journey to get there he couldn’t wait. His mother lingered behind sharing a few more words with Therry, mayhaps repeating directions or maybe a last minute bloodletting before joining him on the road. Without the assistance of a horse or boat they used their legs to travel, it was the best way to enjoy the scenery as his mother described except there was only timber and snow to look at. It wasn’t until a few hours had passed did the scenery change, Castle Cerwyn which laid right alongside the tributary of the White Knife. She said House Cerwyn was the one of the closet bannermen to her family and amongst the most powerful as well. Their sigil was a black battle axe on a silver field and their words were Honed and Ready. Mother claimed not to have vast knowledge about the North, just the most basic any highborn child would know under the tutelage of a maester. Jace did his best to take in anything she would share about life outside of Greywater. Under these circumstances the more she spoke the more the time passed and sooner than later they began to approach the castle walls that he had dreamt of seeing since he was a boy. You could be a league away and still be able to see the gatehouses and the ramparts. To think his mother grew up here then spent the next seventeen years at Greywater Watch, it must have been quite the adjustment. When he turned to look at her he saw her grey eyes gleaning with the same wonder as his.

“Is it everything you imagined?” she asked, her gaze still lingered on the castle as he answered, “Yes and no.” She smiled at his childlike wonder, “Wait till you see the inside,” she teased as she began skipping beckoning him to follow so he hurried after her. Through the streets he followed her which were muddy as she kicked up dirt and snow, there were rows of houses of log and stone that laid beneath the castle walls, almost like a town. It wasn’t quite bursting with people but it was not empty, and the people that were there he could feel their eyes watching them as they passed through. Mother seemed to pay them no mind as they walked right up to the gatehouse which was being guarded by two men, one burly and one skinny. The burly one waddled over clutching the pommel of his sword closing the pathway, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“In there, I live here.”

“Fuck off,” the burly man grunted.

“I’m Lyanna Stark, this is my home.” The two men looked to one another before they began cackling at his mother’s confession. “Is this some kind of sick jest? Lyanna Stark is long dead,” the skinny one said.

“Send for my brother, Lord Stark, tell him his sister has come home.”

“Lord Stark is too busy to waste his breath on the likes of you as are we, so for the last time fuck off.” The burly man reached a hand out which his mother quickly evaded, she grabbed that same outreached arm, taking his wrist and gave it a squeeze. The burly man yelped and fell to his knees, before the skinny one could react Jace drew his bronze dagger and held it at his throat. “I tried to ask nicely but you just wouldn’t listen.” She grabbed his chin, his cheeks bunched in her grip as her burning glare met his eyes. “You will do everything I ask of you do you hear me?”

“Yes,” he said submissively.

“You will find Lord Stark and tell him his sister is in winter town. I’ll be at the inn, speak to him and him alone, do you understand?” He quickly nodded his head as his mother let go of his face, and Jace removed the knife from the other guard’s neck. “Now fuck off,” she barked haughtily watching him clumsily stumble to his feet before turning her back on them and heading back into the winter town. Jace followed after her making sure to study the town more closely. He was enamored by the fresh new surroundings, there were wooden stalls selling fresh produce, as well as ones with fresh baked goods. The enticing scents hitting him right in the nose, smelling better than anything he had at Greywater. His eyes lingered on all the options available, his concentration only being broken by his mother’s voice. “Let’s get some drinks,” she said grabbing hold of his wrist, dragging him along to make sure he wouldn’t be distracted. She led him past the market to the inn that’s name was etched on the entrance, The Smoking Log. True to its name, the inn smelled like a campfire, he could even see smoke coming from the kitchen. It was warm and cozy compared to the outside. There weren't many people inside as they entered but he still felt uneasy under the watchful eyes he felt, it wasn’t until they found themselves a table did he relax. When the serving girl came to their table he asked for a cup of black beer though his mother had other thoughts and suggested it best he got iced milk sweetened with honey. The big bosomed girl returned with their drinks, laying them on the table, he could see her cleavage as she leaned over. “Is there anything else you’d like?” she asked smiling, cheeks red as she seemed to catch him leering.

“Lemon cakes,” his mother interrupted staring at the girl sideways almost wishing her away from the table. Jace awkwardly started to sip his drink which was indeed very sweet and a welcome distraction. It proved to be the perfect combination with the lemon cakes when they arrived, the sweet and soft pastry melted in his mouth, the taste leaving quite the impression on his tongue. They were hardly there for an hour as it began to become dark outside when two men entered the inn and it fell silent. The proprietor jumped up to greet them, her voice high and dainty, “Lord Stark, what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I’m to meet someone here, I don’t mean to inconvenience you but I’d ask you to clear out for the time being,” Lord Stark said.

“Well you heard the man! Out, all of ya!” she belted as she began pushing people out with her own hands.

The exchange certainly caught the attention of his mother as she peered over his shoulder to look at them. When he turned his head he saw the woman directing them to leave but the Lord Stark held a hand out to dissuade her. “Jory, would you mind the door.” The man who accompanied him nodded before stepping out and Lord Stark fast approached them. His mother quickly stood up as they met, reaching their arms around each other and holding one another. When they finally separated Lord Stark wore a mystified look on his face, “You haven’t aged a day,” he said solemnly reaching up to her cheek as if he was making sure she was real.

“And I see the years haven’t been half as kind, your beard is starting to grey,” his mother observed touching his grizzly hairs.

“The stress of having daughters I’m afraid, luckily you had the one boy,” he replied turning his attention to Jacaerys, offering him his hand. When Jacaerys took Lord Stark’s hand, he was pulled up to his feet and brought into the same tight embrace that he had shared with his mother. Once retracted, their eyes met studying one another. Lord Stark had the same long brown hair and grey eyes as his mother and Uncle Brandon. He was dressed in fine silks and linen, with furs over his shoulders, and a direwolf badge over his heart.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you Lord Stark. Mother always spoke of you.”

Just as Lord Stark opened his mouth he heard his mother scoff before interjecting, “Lord Stark? Jacaerys you’re being far too formal, he’s your family.”

“Yes please, call me uncle,” he insisted.

“Alright,” Jace conceded, though they may be kin he was nevertheless still a stranger. “You’re a lot taller than the last time I saw you,” Uncle Ned said which made Jace chortle knowing the last time must’ve been when he was just a babe. “And you still got the look of a Stark, none of mine favor me much save one.”

“They should count themselves lucky,” his mother japed which brought a wry smile to his uncle’s face.

“Brandon was always considered the more handsome one.”

“Speaking of our brother, Jace and I encountered him on the road here,” his mother remarked which made Uncle Ned’s smile falter. “You’ve seen Brandon?” he asked.

She took her seat again, as he and Uncle Ned followed suit, “To say he was none too pleased with us for keeping this secret...you especially. He may have mentioned wringing your neck once or twice.”

Uncle Ned sighed, not seeming at all surprised or shaken by the threat of death from his own brother, “And I would deserve it but I did what I thought was right at the time with everything that was happening.”

“We kept him in the dark for all these years Ned.”

“And it was for the best. The more people who knew, the more dangerous it would be. Which begs the question why you would take such a risk to come here.”

“I was cautious,” she said trying to ease his apprehension.

“But why, after all this time?”

His mother seemed disheartened by his tone, “You could sound a bit more happy to see me. Were you so resigned to never seeing my face again?”

“I was resigned to keep you and your son from harm. You agreed that it would be best for you to stay with Lord Reed,” Uncle Ned reasoned.

“I did but that was seventeen years ago Ned, things have changed, Jace is a man grown now, capable of making his own decisions.”

“So you mean to tell me you allowed the boy to make the choice to come here? You? His mother?” Uncle Ned questioned, his disapproving glare made Jace feel regretful.

“He only wanted to meet you, to meet Brandon, Benjen, his family. My family. Seven hells Ned! The boy is a prince he deserves more than spending the rest of his days in a swamp,” she said loudly.

“He is not a prince so long as Robert sits the throne or have you forgotten the rebellion. Many years may have passed but that fact remains the same. He would have your son’s head on a spike if he could along with my own for betraying him.”

“You owe him nothing! I’m your family not him.”

“He may not be my blood but Robert is as much my brother as Brandon and I do not wish to go to war against him then or now, so I made a choice, tell a lie to protect you and your son.”

“You speak of war but he’s half a world away. Southerners don’t concern themselves with what happens in the North.”

Uncle Ned shook his head, clearly distressed by the situation rubbing his temple. “In the past that might have been true but everyday Robert imagines a new threat and that his spymasters make him aware of anything they would deem as such and their reach has no limits.”

“So what are you saying?”

Uncle Ned hesitated, “To bring you into my home...”

“It is my home too,” she reminded him.

“Aye, but I am Lord of Winterfell now and your presence would likely cause trouble for my family,” he finished. His mother began to scowl and his mood matched hers as his uncle’s words left a bitter taste in his mouth, the feeling of not being wanted because of events that preceded him. “I am sorry lad,” he said softly as if it would make the spurn hurt less.

Not wanting to take no for an answer his mother was resolute, “But what if he wasn’t Rhaegar’s son?” she asked.

“I don’t understand,” his uncle replied, confused.

“What if he were someone else? A commoner perhaps or a bastard of a lord,” she pondered aloud.

“And whose bastard son would you have me pass him off as?”

“Well nobody would believe you fathered a bastard so the only sensible choice would be Brandon.”

Uncle Ned seemed to be considering the proposal which gave him hope that this journey wasn’t all for naught. His mother continued to persuade him, “You said it yourself he has the look of a Stark and you’re Lord of Winterfell now nonody would question your word.”

“More lies to cover old ones,” he groaned.

“Don’t think of them as lies, think of them as...half truths. He is still your nephew and you can present him as such, you can even say he was fostered at Greywater Watch.”

Her words were compelling enough that his uncle addressed him, studying his face carefully, “And you’re in agreement with this, pretending to be someone else?”

“I’ve been pretending to be someone else my whole life.” Jace answered solemnly.

“Hmmm,” is all uncle said in response which he took as progress as it was not words of protest. Jacaerys almost began to hope again before realizing that his mother had excluded herself from the plans. “What about you, mother?”

“I’ll stay here in winter town,” she said casually.

“What?! No, I won’t go without you.” Jacaerys said defiantly.

“Really Jace it’s fine, it’s easier for everyone if you go alone.”

“Not easier for me,” he retorted. Them coming to Winterfell was as much about her as it was about him. For as long as he lived she was separated from her family, she sacrificed that for him and here she was doing it again.

“She’s right, your mother is a complication I can’t just explain away, from her supposed bones in the crypts to the statue erected in her honor.”

“Why can’t she pose as someone else?”

“Because as she was quick to remind me Winterfell is her home, people will remember her and only more questions will rise as to why she hasn’t aged a day,” Ned countered.

“More reason for her to come, who would believe after all this time she would still look the same.”

“It’s not a matter of belief, there will be no fooling their eyes, they will know the truth.”

“There may be another way,” his mother said which earned a raised eyebrow from his uncle. “How many people remain in Winterfell from the days I was there.”

He paused to think before answering her, “Ser Rodrik, Old Nan, a few others but mostly servants.”

“So a senile old woman, your master-at-arms and some commoners sworn to serve at your leisure,” she considered. “Seems easy enough to deal with.” Her casual tone made Uncle Ned sneer, “How so?” he questioned.

“Send Ser Rodrik away and I will deal with any other complication that may arise.”

“Deal with them how?” he said sounding puzzled.

“I have my ways,” she answered cryptically. “Of course you can always say no and send us on our way but I know you have missed me as I have missed you.”

He exhaled heavily, the burden of the decision clearly weighing on him. “Give me the night to think on it. My lady wife has probably already grown weary of my whereabouts,” he says gauging how much time has passed as he looked through the window. He stood up giving mother a hug again and shaking his hand more stern this time before departing. After he exited the inn, the room slowly began to fill again with some of the eyes peering towards them. He and mother agreed they were ready to get away from all the would be lurkers so mother approached the proprietor to inquire about a room for the night. Jace had no idea how they would be able to pay for the food and drink or the room as they had no coin but somehow it worked in their favor as they were being shown to their room on the second floor. A small unassuming dark room that had this particular smell he could not quite put a name to with one bed which meant he and his mother would have to share.

“It does have a certain appeal,” she says before throwing herself on the bed.

“Four walls and a bed beats a boat or a tent any day,” he whispered surveying the room, where he spotted a working hearth. The journey to Winterfell was not unbearable but it wasn’t pleasant either so the warmth of the hearth hitting him hard as he took the seat near it was welcome. He laid his sack of meager belongings on the table and kicked his feet up as he leaned back in his seat.

“So what do you think?” he heard her say.

“Of the room?”

“No silly, your uncle.”

Jace thought on it trying to come up with the words to describe him. “He’s a bit...guarded.”

“He’s always been like that especially when you compare him to Brandon but I imagine it has only gotten worse now that he’s older with more responsibility. He is the second son after all.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Ned was never groomed to be a leader, that was always Brandon. He was the heir to Winterfell after our father which is why he enabled Brandon which only made him grow more wild with age while Ned was always the quiet one,” she explained.

“Aren’t I a second son?” He inquired hesitantly. Jacaerys didn’t know exactly how to ask his mother about his father’s other family before him.

“In a manner of speaking yes but you are my first boy,” she smiled.

“But father did have another son with another woman before you had me and he would be king after father as well,” Jace said pointedly.

“If he had lived,” she mused. “Do you want to be king?”

“No,” Jacaerys said flatly. “I want to be free.”

To pass the time Jacaerys pulled his dagger out and began to whittle at the table listening to the fire crackle each time he threw a chipped piece of wood, he found he liked it better than the silence. After a time he grew bored and tired but couldn’t find the strength to go to the bed that his mother currently occupied. She left just enough room for him on the right side, already making herself comfortable slipping in something more light not caring for his watching eyes. The whittling became a welcome distraction as her kind grey eyes just watched him almost enticing him to join her and share her warmth. His restraint whittled away much like the table with each stroke of his blade, his eyes slowly began to weaken along with his will to defy his body. He began removing his boots first followed by his shirt, he would leave his pants as he needed as many layers as possible between them.

“Are you finally coming to bed?” she asked. Jace gave no response as the answer was obvious when he circled around to the empty side of the bed to climb in. Just as he did she turned over to face him, “Are you so afraid of me? Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to,” she says quietly. They still had not broached the subject of what had transpired that night but this was about as close to it. Jacaerys wasn’t sure if she was alluding to the blood sucking or the other thing she did with her mouth. Secretly he was not opposed to either but what did that say about him, he feared the answer, so he lied, “I’m not afraid,” he whispered before dropping his eyes as he could not lie to her face as his mother’s eyes were piercing and could always determine the truth of the matter.

“Good,” she replied, satisfied with his answer, his mother grabbed his arm as she twisted back around placing his arm on her hip with her back pressing against his chest. He tried to control his breathing, not wanting to make too much of the contact she induced but when she began rubbing her backside against his groin and humming, he felt himself begin to stiffen to the point she would likely feel it. Jace knew it was likely he would not survive the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially this chapter was supposed to be four POVs but I thought it would be too much of a monster update so I split it in half. The next three chapters will be titled ‘Betrothals and Betrayals’, ‘Decisions and Departures’, and ‘Broken Promises’ the last one being a Rhaegar POV, when they will be released I have no idea but it won’t be a three month wait lol.


	10. Betrothals and Betrayals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forging the chain. The burdens to bear. The broken links.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol writing is hard.

**THE POMPOUS PRINCE**  
_The Black Wall_

Viserys relished in his lust for blood, not drinking till he was sated but till he felt the life slowly seeping from the unfortunate soul that was the guard tasked to defend the Black Wall that night. For all the weak attempts the man made to break free of his hold, any fight he had left slowly dwindled away until he was dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Viserys stood over the lifeless body in complete euphoria, wiping the blood from his mouth savoring the taste as he licked his fingers. It was the second life he had taken that night and it all felt inconsequential, only the rush of wanting more blood existed in that moment. It was the first time in Viserys’ life that he truly felt powerful.

For all his hubris Viserys never had the autonomy to do as he wished. Despite his status as a prince, the dynasty he was born into had long since fallen, and if it ever came to be restored he was at worst sixth in line, very much an afterthought but at best he was his father’s heir. A fanciful notion perhaps, but his pure Targaryen blood and ability to further the line proved a pathway to the throne as all his elder siblings could not produce an heir as they were all dead in a manner of speaking but now, so was he.

He was a vampire now and he could do anything to anyone with impunity, with the power he wielded now he could decide whether who lived or who died, who was worthy or unworthy, the world could be under his thumb if he chose it. That proved short-lived when out of the darkness of the night came an assailant throttling him into the pillars of the bridge. “Didn’t I tell you to behave yourself,” the hooded figure said before revealing themselves to be Daeron. The vice grip Dragoneye held around his throat rendered him speechless, making him choke on any words he might have spoken in his defense but it seemed his eldest brother was not interested as he continued to manhandle him, dragging him from pillar to pillar, slamming him up against stone walls before holding him at the ledge of the Long Bridge. In an instant he went from feeling quite formidable to helpless, even as a vampire not much has changed.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you into the Rhoyne,” Dragoneye posed. The clasp around his throat made it difficult to speak but Viserys managed to croak out the most obvious answer, “I’m your brother,” he reasoned, his voice raspy and desperate.

“Surely you can do better than that.” Dragoneye taunted.

“Wasn’t killing me once enough?” snapped Viserys.

“I was acting rashly then, I’m thinking much clearer now,” Dragoneye growled as he held him further off the bridge. Viserys knew not what to say to convince his crazed brother not to kill him, not that anything else he would say would have mattered as Dragoneye had mostly been cruel for sport most of his life. Viserys didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing him beg for his life for a second time which left him with the only one option, to fight him. He grabbed the arm that was choking him, trying to get him to loosen his grip but to no avail as he was incredibly strong. Even if he did manage it, his legs dangled in the wind without the support of solid ground.

 _And it was a long way down_. He instantly regretted looking as a hint of fear began to creep in. The river below him expanded farther than his eye could see, it was so wide that the great structure that is the Long Bridge was built to connect the two halves of the city spanning over it. No doubt the Rhoyne was wide, but how deep? Deep enough to break his fall he mused, but could he swim the span of the river before he drowned. Mayhaps it wouldn’t come to that as they were at the eastern end but the jagged rocks beneath the massive piers gave him worry. His life was in his brother’s hand who had already killed him once and by the look in his eye meant to do it again. Just as he became resigned to his fate he saw Aegon drawing near, and he exhaled for a moment feeling a sense of relief but that was before his brother spoke.

“Let him go,” Aegon demanded, his voice more stern than usual. A wry smile crept on Daeron’s face, “Really poor choice of words don’t you think.”

“Words are wind,” Aegon replied.

Daeron seemed amused by Aegon’s remark, raising a hand to his ear as if he was listening to the wind as it howled, “What’s that? You want me to drop Viserys to his death,” he said with a smirk on his face.

Aegon closed the distance between them, until he was looking out over the ledge. “Are you even sure a fall from this height would kill him?” he pondered aloud.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Dragoneye sneered. Aegon glared back at Daeron with contempt, “I only fear if he does die you’d be cursed as a kinslayer twice over.”

Dragoneye shrugged, “Seeing as we’re already cursed it should be of no consequence,” he says casually. “Besides Kinslayer Daeron has a nice sound to it.”

Aegon ventured closer, close enough that he was only an arm length away. He raised his hand placing it on Daeron’s shoulder who clearly took exception to it by the way he glared at his blood stained hand. “I think Daeron the Cruel is more fitting,” he suggested. “You always did admire Maegor and he was a kinslayer as well.” Aegon had the right of it, Dragoneye always did praise Maegor’s acts as being a true Targaryen, all men could agree Maegor took what he wanted with fire and blood, including the Iron Throne whether it was rightfully his or not. He took it cause he could, cause he was strong, and a warrior and unforgiving and Dragoneye had fashioned himself the same.

“Say what you will about him but he was a king.” Dragoneye stated.

“And you’re not,” Aegon whispered, leaning in on Daeron’s shoulder, “But father is,” he finished. Dragoneye turned once more this time glowering at Aegon who wore a devious smile. Aegon always took great pleasure in provoking Dragoneye but under these circumstances he’d rather him not but he was helpless to do anything about it. “I’m beginning to wonder how’d he feel about you straying so far from the plan?”

Daeron shrugged the hand off his shoulder, looking Aegon up and down before speaking, “And what plan would that be?” Dragoneye posed. Viserys could see his face swell with anger as the pressure tightened around his throat. “Was it in the plan for you and Viserys to act like fools? I asked one simple thing of you, to not cause any trouble that could make our stay here anymore difficult and you couldn’t even last one night without your desperate cries for attention with morbid displays of violence,” he said seething. “And I know it was you who put Viserys up to this, he wouldn’t dare do this on his own.”

Aegon was indifferent to everything Daeron spewed, shrugging his shoulders. “So we killed a few strangers, we were just having fun, weren’t we Viserys,” Aegon replied to which Viserys stayed silent.

“Our anonymity is more important than your amusement,” Daeron spat. “Perhaps I’m choking the wrong brother,” he mused.

“I agree,” Viserys wheezed, his voice still constricted by his brother’s hand.

“Perhaps,” Aegon replied. “Though subduing me would prove much more difficult as I’m not some newborn vampire.”

Daeron’s eyebrow raised at the challenge. “Is that so?” he said as he pulled Viserys back from the ledge and threw him to the wayside coming face to face with Aegon. He was much relieved as he rubbed his throat and the ache he had felt quickly dissipated. He was no longer the object of Daeron’s wrath and was content to play the role of spectator as he stumbled to his feet to watch his brothers clash.

Daeron struck first with a punch so strong Aegon was lifted off his feet and sent flying against the opposite stone wall. Daeron stalked him like prey as Aegon tried to crawl to his feel but Daeron kicked him while he was down. “You’re a fool for thinking you could contend with me,” he barked. “Gods, why am I surrounded by fools,” he pondered aloud, kicking Aegon again. When he meant to kick him for the third time Aegon swept a hand under Daeron’s foot bringing him to the ground. Aegon climbed over him, punching Daeron several times in the face till the latter grabbed his tunic to force him off with a powerful push. They both quickly got back to their feet approaching each other once more as Viserys did his best to stay out the way.

“You’re the fool, kinslayer,” Aegon shot back. “You’re cross with me for spilling some blood of some strangers but you spilled the blood of a brother.” They came to blows again with Aegon swinging first but Daeron warded them off with his own hand, catching him by the wrist and tossing him.

“You begrudge me but you act as if he’s not better off this way, death is the best thing he could have ever hoped for,” Daeron snarled before turning his attention to Viserys. “You were a pompous weakling if I ever saw one, death was surely an improvement.”

Viserys’s face hardened from Daeron’s harsh words. “It wasn’t for you to decide,” Aegon said loudly, getting to his feet before they came together once more but there were no hands exchanged only words.

“If I hadn’t killed him then, surely someone else would have,” Dragoneye coldly stated. “He would have likely offended somebody he had no business offending just as he did me. Our brother thinks too highly of himself and lowly of others with no such brawn behind his words.”

“I resent that,” Viserys said quietly but spoke no other words in his defense.

Aegon’s stance began to soften, “So maybe in your own sick, vindictive, cruel way you thought you were helping Viserys but as was I,” he said. “You turned him, he was a responsibility you chose to neglect in order to fuck your red witch so I took up the mantle you disregarded.”

Daeron was exasperated, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head, “I was helping him you fool, he’ll need a daylight ring come sunrise.”

“So you don’t deny it?” Aegon questioned.

“Deny what?” Daeron asked, the frustration clear in his voice.

“Sleeping with her.”

Daeron scoffed at the accusation, “You have a one track mind when it comes to women.”

“Don’t all men?” Aegon sneered.

“Small men like yourself maybe,” Dragoneye replied. The barb at Aegon’s height did not go unnoticed as he scowled. “And I’d rather not be lumped in with the likes of you.”

“Because you’re so much better than me,” Aegon said in a mocking tone.

“I’m glad you know it,” Daeron said. “It’s a shame you’ve sunk your talons in Viserys already, he could have really learned how to be a proper predator under my guidance.” Aegon couldn’t help but take Daeron’s words as a slight, “Do you not think me capable?”

Daeron walked over to the guard that Viserys had killed near the bridge, kneeling down to check his person. “What is rule number one?” he asked.

“I wasn’t aware there were any rules,” Aegon said curtly.

“Of course not,” Dragoneye grumbled. “The first and most important rule is we do not create more vampires without just cause,” he stated as he plunged a hand in the man’s chest and removed his heart. He stood up tossing the heart into the Rhoyne then wiped his hand clean on his black cloak. “The second and third rule go hand in hand, our hunts must be inconspicuous, and our interactions with humans must be minimal, they must be unaware of who we are and what we are.”

Aegon groaned, “See, he’s better off with me, one should enjoy vampirism it shouldn’t be a chore.”

“We were getting on fine before Dragoneye decided to ruin all the fun.” Viserys said

“You and Aegon making a mockery of discretion should hardly be considered fun, it’s a wonder nobody stumbled upon—”

He was interrupted by a shrill and sudden scream. When they turned to look towards the origin of the noise they saw a figure standing over the bodies of the men that had been protecting the black wall. He could hear the pace of their heart from where he stood, their breath quickening, Viserys raced to the scene before Aegon and Daeron could even react. When he reached the black wall, the person in question was hunched over the bodies closely examining them. “What happened here?” he asked feigning concern.

“These men,” they choked, the panic and hurt proved to be stronger than their soft voice. It was a woman he surmised. “Their bodies have been drained of blood.”

“How can you tell?” Viserys asked suspiciously.

“I’m a healer of sorts,” she explained. The woman pulled one of the guard’s heads into her lap, trying to assess the wound further. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, have you?” the woman asked before finally looking up at him. Her reaction was predictable as some of the blood from the men still decorated his mouth. Her scream was more visceral as he stood closer to her now. Viserys grabbed the woman by her shoulders, bringing her to her feet, back facing him.

“Shhhhhh,” he cooed in her ear softly. He wrapped an arm around her midsection keeping her close to his body while he began to caress her neck with his index trying to soothe her, “You won’t feel a thing I promise.”

“Would you put her out of her misery already,” Daeron said suddenly announcing his presence.

“Or you can take your time and draw it out, enjoy the kill,” Aegon suggested.

“Mercy, please!” the woman cried. Viserys’ hand wandered her body as she fought him, trying to wiggle out his grasp. “I’ll give you anything,” she pleaded.

“Anything?” his tone heated and suggestive against her neck.

She nodded her head, “My father, he’s very powerful, he can give you anything you want.”

“What I want your father can’t give me,” Viserys whispered in her ear, his hands hinting at what he meant. Right as he meant to bite into her neck, Daeron was interfering with his fun once again. “Who’s your father?” his eldest brother asked.

“Who cares?” Aegon hissed..

“I do, she might be of more value to us alive than dead depending on her answer,” Daeron replied..

“Malaquo Maegyr, a triarch of Volantis,” she breathed. The name and who her father obviously was of some significance to Daeron as his ears perked after she answered the question. “Viserys be a lad, release the poor girl.” Before he thought to protest, Daeron gave him a stern look and Viserys thought it better to acquiesce than to defy so he let her go. She instantly fell to her knees again but in gratitude. He thought Dragoneye might bask in the woman’s groveling but he was quick to help her to her feet. A woman on her knees begging certainly pandered to a man’s ego, a sight most men yearned for but Dragoneye proved he was not most men. “You’re not out of the woods yet love.”

“So we’re holding her hostage then?” Aegon asked, taking the opportunity to grab hold of her.

Daeron nodded, “She could prove quite valuable. Volantis is ruled by three people, the triarchs, her father happens to be one of them,” Daeron explained but they were already made aware by the widow of the waterfront.

“We know about the triarch, but how do we even know she’s telling the truth, you didn’t even compel her,” Viserys argued.

“I’m not lying,” she quickly disputed, glaring at him. “I wish I was.”

“I know you aren’t, I could tell by the beat of heart,” Daeron said.

Aegon dismissed his basis with a scoff as he turned the woman around to face him. “Then there’s no harm in making sure,“ he considered. Taking the moment to hold her gaze, Aegon searched her eyes looking for the truth of the matter. “Let's start with an easy one shall we, what’s your name?”

“Talisa Maegyr,” she replied. Daeron was satisfied as it proved him to be right but Aegon continued on nonetheless. He ran a hand down the side of her face, studying her closely, “A pretty name to match a pretty face, tell me what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone at this time of night.” Aegon inquired.

A hint of guilt dwelled in him as he saw a tear fall from her eye that Aegon wiped away. She was still petrified despite Daeron assuring her safety.

“I was—” she started but Daeron stopped her from proceeding when he grabbed Aegon by the collar to push him away. “Do you have to be so insufferable? Can’t you see you’re scaring her.” he admonished.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to be any concern of mine.” Aegon retorted, fixing his collar that Daeron mangled. Daeron took the opportunity to take Aegon’s place speaking to the girl, lifting her chin so she could meet his violet eyes. “You stumbled upon some bodies, we rescued you from grave danger and that’s all you remember.”

“That’s all I remember,” she repeated back to him.

Pleased with her obedience, Daeron clapped his hands as if to end her trance, “Now that we’ve settled that, I think it’s time we meet daddy.” He brought his arm around the girl, laying it on her shoulders as they walked closely together through the opening of the black fused dragon stone wall. “And be sure to rip out the hearts of the men you killed, we wouldn’t them coming back to haunt us,” he called out as he got deeper into the city.

Viserys looked to Aegon in confusion on their next move, not knowing if they should follow after him or not. “We did come here to pass these walls,” Aegon said letting his choice be known.

“What about the bodies?” Viserys asked. Aegon kneeled punching through the guards tunic, ripping out his heart. “I guess we’ll leave them, we’ll have need of them to corroborate any story Dragoneye fancies to tell.” Viserys followed the lead of his brothers, ripping the heart of the other guard and disposing of them in the Rhoyne.

There he followed after Dragoneye and Aegon through the long black tunnel, surveying the markings that decorated the inner walls. It was typical of the dragon lords of old to decorate everything with dragons very much like the castle Dragonstone. As they entered Old Volantis did Viserys quickly notice the vast difference between the Old and the New. The Black Wall protected more than just the Old Blood, it protected the culture of Old Valyria. The contrast between the halves of the cities were very apparent. There were no merchants, sailors, or fishmongers on the prowl in the streets. The eastern bank was filled with homes and subtle shops where the western bank was filled with taverns and brothels. It was quite impressive considering the city of Volantis was just an outpost to begin with. As he continued to search his surroundings he noticed how active one of the buildings compared to the others were considering the time of night. A dozen men in ornate armor with spears with jade green stripes on their face had appeared from nowhere and now were fast approaching them.

“They’re looking for me,” Talisa quickly confessed, clearly distressed, her face red as she hid behind Dragoneye.

“Do you not want to be found?” Daeron asked.

“I’m not lost,” she simply replied.

“Still, they seem fairly determined to find you.”

“It’s not as if they have much of a choice, they're slave soldiers, they do as they’re bid.” Talisa pointed out. They watched as the men scattered from the massive monolith of marble and fused dragon stone which was the most impressive construction he had seen thus far in Volantis which was quite a feat considering Volantis was considered a city of marvels. Bustling in a single file, not breaking rank as they fast approached with spears in hand.

Talisa was confused by their nonchalant nature as the soldiers closed in on them, “You should go,” she suggested. “The tiger cloaks are fearsome warriors, if you’re caught with me they’ll assume the worst.”

Daeron brushed off her warnings, “Dragons do not scare easily nor do they flee.”

“But dragons are gone from the world.”

“Three dragons stand before you,” he calmly replied as the tiger cloaks began to surround them with their long spears in hand.

“Tepagon īlva se riña!” one of the soldiers belted out.

Daeron shook his head defiantly, “No, I don’t think I will but I do have a counter proposal, leave us and I might spare your lives.”

“Do they even understand what you’re saying?” Aegon asked. The tiger cloaks gave their response when they extended their spears trapping them till their backs were up against one another.

“I think we have our answer.” Viserys remarked dreading the circumstances they found themselves in. Despite the close proximity of twelve spears pointed at them Dragoneye did not falter, he gave a response of his own quickly grabbing one of the sharp pointed heads of the spears with his bare hands before breaking off a portion of the staff. With the end of the spear in hand, Dragoneye flipped it before throwing it at one of the soldiers all in one motion. The spear impaled the man right through his throat which was left unprotected right under his helm as he dropped to the floor. Aegon grabbed two spears under his arms flipping them and bashed the two guards in the head with the end of it. Viserys knew not what to do next as the guards on his side began to thrust their spears at him.

“What do I do?!” Viserys shouted nervously, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword.

“Kill them you fool,” Daeron replied. Viserys never had practiced with swords in earnest even though he carried one. Ser Barristan had always carried two long swords and had lent one to him, telling him it was important to look the part in the Free Cities. When he drew his sword he swung it once and much to his surprise it split one of the guard’s long spears in half. When he swung the longsword once more at the disarmed guard he almost split the man in half. ”Don’t hurt them!” the triarch’s daughter screamed.

“They’re trying to kill us,” he reasoned. Daeron grabbed one off their feet, ripping off his helm and staring him in the eye. “Tell the others to stand down or you all die.” The guard called out an order in a High Valyrian and the other men quickly ceased.

Talisa had tears in her eyes, whatever her plans were he knew she did not expect her night to go like this. “No more fighting,” she pleaded. Viserys sheathed his sword and Daeron let the guard down to his feet.

“Take me to my father,” she said in High Valyrian to the guards. The tiger cloaks led them to the place from which they had came. It was the Palace of the Triarchs. When they entered the topless tower there were more carvings but they were not drawings but written notes of passed deeds of the triarchs. The group halted as a thin olive skin toned man entered the hall. The girl Talisa went running into outstretched arms, “Father,” she wailed as he held her tight.

“I was worried for you, where have you been?” he asked. The man he presumed to be the girl’s father began to study them. “And who might these men be?”

Talisa looked back at them in her father’s arms, her eyes meeting Daeron’s, “They saved my life,” she told her father. “Some men attacked me and they came to rescue.”

“What were you doing out this time of night?” he asked her.

“I…” she stammered, “I was going for a late night swim in the Rhoyne,” she said quietly.

“What have I told you about that,” he chided. “It is not safe for you out there alone with those heathens.”

“I know father,” she said apologetically. “I only made it as far as the black wall before they saved me from grave danger, even the guards posted at the wall were killed. I surely would have joined them if it wasn’t for their bravery.” The triarch’s glare made him uneasy, Viserys did not know if he would have them seized or thank them for their supposed heroics. They soon had their answer, as he gave them a toothless smile instead of offering his hand. “I thank you good men for saving my daughter’s life. I would offer you the hospitality of Old Volantis although we do not usually allow foreigners inside the walls but exceptions shall be made for you.”

“We’re not foreigners,” Dragoneye replied. “You could say our ancestors built this city.” He seemed amused by Daeron’s words, “And who might you be?” the triarch inquired.

“I am Prince Daeron Targaryen, and these are my brothers, Prince Aegon and Prince Viserys,” he confessed.

In a state of disbelief the triarch smile disappeared, “So you mean to tell me you are the sons of the Mad King? No one has seen or heard from them in seventeen years. Telling me you were the son of a Targaryen prince born from a Lyseni whore would have made for a better story.”

Daeron walked slowly to the triarch, the tiger cloaks watching ever closely, “What I tell you is true, we are the sons of King Aerys, the second of his name. I swear it on the old gods and the new.”

“We do not worship the seven in Old Volantis, nor do we worship trees here,” the triarch quipped.

“I swear it on the Drowned God, the Red God, whatever fucking god you worship, but you will treat us with the reverence befitting a royal family,” he growled grasping the man’s slender face while his daughter clung to him like a shy maid.

“What can I do for you, my prince?” he asked with his face scrunched.

Daeron let go of his face, “Some war galleys perhaps, longships, soldiers but for now a place for us to rest for the night will suffice.”

“I cannot speak of such matters here as this is the Palace of the Triarchs and I am but one of them,” he replied. “But at my manse we can speak more freely and you are welcome there for all that you have done for my daughter,” he assented.

Daeron gave him his thanks with a nod of his head. Malaquo and his daughter left the palace as they followed along with the gathered tiger cloaks. Outside waiting for them was an elephant which was the means of transportation for the triarchs. Malaquo explained that the position of a triarch is so exalted that they are not allowed to have their feet touch the ground during their year of service. The tiger cloaks helped them mount the elephant then marched alongside them as they made their way through the city. The elephant proved to be very convenient, from the height where they sat he had a overlooking view of the labyrinth of palaces, courtyards, towers, temples, and cloisters in the city as they lumbered through. He saw Valyrian glyphs carved into the walls, gardens greener than twelve year old boys, stone statues that stood at least ten feet. When they arrived at the manse, which was made of fused black dragon stone much like the rest of the city they were met by house guards who helped them down. Inside the manse was much warmer than the streets and it smelled of pinefire. The triarch kissed his daughter, bidding her a goodnight before the household guards escorted her away then they were personally shown to their own rooms by the triarch, there had been a room for every stone tower the manse had so there was a room for each of his brothers unlike what they would have had subjected themselves to if they had stayed at the Merchant’s House. His room had a high ceiling where a candled chandelier hung from. “Glass candles,” Malaquo said proudly. “They are said to not have burned in the last hundred years.” The flames burned bright in the room, where he could spy a four poster bed, a padded couch but no window which suited him fine, along with a giant stone carving of a crouching tiger over the hearth that nearly frightened him. After the triarch closed the door behind Viserys soon found himself abed, thinking of how his night began being surrounded by whores only for it to end as an honored guest of one of the most powerful men in Volantis, maybe being a vampire was not so bad after all he mused.

When he awoke the next day it had been by the triarch’s household servants who he took for slaves as they wore bronze collars around their necks. They informed him that their master was breaking fast with his brothers. He was led across the entry hall, where a mosaic of colored glass depicted the Doom of Valyria, as they stepped passed a twin stone archway into the pillared courtyard where the sun shone down on the leaves and pale ivory statues in watered garden. His brothers and the triarch Malaquo sat comfortably in the shade luckily for him with plates in front of them. “My beloved siblings,” he greeted as he took a seat. “Triarch Malaquo,” he added to not offend the man, not that it would have mattered.

“We were just speaking of you,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Is that so?” Viserys said, curious as to what they might have been saying. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and he had not even eaten yet as Aegon began to snicker. The triarch took note, snapping his fingers at one of the slaves who would return with a plate of warm soft flatbread, pink fish roe, honey sausage, and fried locusts. As he began to eat, his brother Daeron finished his thought. “The Triarch here was kind enough to offer his daughter's hand in marriage.”

Viserys spoke with his mouth full of bread and sausage, perturbed, “Why does that concern me?” he pondered aloud. His brothers gave him a knowing look but Viserys shook his head fervently. “I’m already betrothed.”

“Are you now?” Daeron said, glaring at him, his voice thick with doubt.

The triarch stood suddenly to dismiss himself, “I’ll leave you to discuss this amongst yourselves,” he announced. Daeron rested a hand on the man’s shoulder beckoning him to be seated again, “You’ll do no such thing.”

Aegon who had been auspiciously quiet spoke next, it was no surprise he was met with derision. “I believe our brother still has the inclination that he’ll marry Daenerys.” It was no inclination, his father had told him as much, that when they became of age it would be done. Daenerys had long since been flowered but had just reached the age of majority. Viserys had the intention of asking for her hand once he returned with the dragon eggs to prove himself to his father.

Daeron turned to him, his tone low and serious, “Viserys you cannot be this foolhardy to still believe wedding brother to sister will bring us back to Westeros.”

“It’s not what I believe, it’s what father wants.”

“Are you a man grown or are you incapable of making a choice for yourself?”

Viserys took exception to his words, “I’m not making a choice, you are trying to make it for me yet you are not my father nor are you my king.” His eldest brother let out a deep sigh, “I’m simply presenting an opportunity for you to bring glory to our house,” he reasoned. “It was imperative we kept the bloodlines pure when dragons roamed the skies cause that’s where our power lied, that has not been the case for some time now. Alliances through marriage however have always proved the best way to hold sway. Volantis is the oldest and proudest of the free cities, also one of the richest, you could not ask for a better match.”

“So have Aegon marry her,” Viserys shouted.

Aegon laughed heartily at that, “I’d much rather remain unmarried, life is much more frivolous that way.”

“And the girl is more suited to be your bride, as she is of your age,” Daeron added.

“No man can force another to be wed,” Viserys breathed, thinking the matter done with as he continued eating, then washing the food with some summer wine. After a brief silence, the triarch spoke trying to convince him. “If it’s her virtue in question, I can assure you she is a maid,” the triarch said.

“I care nothing of her virtue,” Viserys said dismissively.

“Then what do you care for,” Daeron questioned. “Clearly not the betterment of our house. Our father had long since wanted a bride of noble birth from Volantis with an old Valyrian bloodline back when he was looking for someone for Rhaegar to wed, before he settled on Elia Martell all while he had a sister he could be wed to.”

“And if I can’t have my sister perhaps I’ll marry a Martell as well,” he quipped.

“Or perhaps her father will marry her to someone with a better claim.” Dragoneye said hauntingly. Viserys knew who he was referring to. The crown prince’s son did indeed have the better claim no doubt and he also had Dornish blood so he would have the unquestioned support of the Dorne, and perhaps the Princess of Dorne’s hand as well.

“A highborn harlot is hardly suitable to be a consort,” Aegon chortled.

“Arianne could hardly be considered a harlot seeing as you haven't bedded her,” Viserys japed. He had known Arianne well...as well as any man could know a woman, they had shared their carnal desires with one another anytime he and his siblings would venture to Dorne. She was a small salacious thing, enthralling and ambitious, he had no doubt she aspired to be a queen but Rhaegar’s whelp seemed more concerned with Rhaenys than he did with Arianne, such is the way of the Targaryens but Aegon was no true dragon, he was but a half breed while he was as pure as the dragon lords of old.

“And here you have a girl with unquestioned virtue of noble birth with the old blood of Valyria in her veins, who’s father is the most powerful man in the richest and oldest of the Free Cities,” Dragoneye said. “Please do not prove to be the fool I accused you of being.”

Viserys was reticent to reply, Dragoneye made much sense but he wanted what he wanted. He was much relieved when the triarch interrupted once more, “You flatter me, my prince but Braavos currently boasts as the richest free city and I am only one of the three most powerful men in Volantis,” he said humbly. “Volantis is indeed the first daughter of Valyria but it has not been the same since the century of blood.”

“Century of blood?” he said, puzzled, he did not know much about the history of the free cities, he concerned himself with the history of the west more than the east, the Targaryens had left Essos behind them when they took Westeros.

“After the Doom of Valyria the Volantenes considered themselves the heirs of the Freehold, but were divided as to how dominion might best be achieved much like the city. The Old Blood favored the sword, while the merchants and moneylenders advocated trade. As they contended for rule of the city, the factions became known as the tigers and elephants, and for one hundred years the tigers held sway and there was blood but only for a time. Eventually Volantis overstepped and tried to take Tyrosh but that conquest was thwarted when the other cities they had subdued rose up in rebellion alongside Tyrosh. The Volantenes grew weary of the bloodshed and favored peace that’s when the elephants took power from the tigers.”

“I assume you are a tiger,” Viserys said, remembering the cloaks and markings of the guards that served him as well as the stone carving in his room.

“That I am,” he replied with his head held high. “Unfortunately since those hundred years at least two of the three triarchs in power have been elephants and the majority rules so any attempt I would make to help your family would be opposed by the elephants if they thought me overstepping, and these soldiers and ships you asked of would surely deemed as such and the last triarch to overstep was killed.”

“And why did this one die?” Dragoneye inquired.

“The triarchs are voted on the first day of the new year and one man named Horonno had been a triarch for forty years decided to name himself a triarch for life, that of course angered the Volantene and in turn they tied his limbs to four elephants till he was split in half.” Aegon grimaced at the manner of death though Dragoneye seemed unfazed by it. “You say all of this to tell me what?” Daeron said.

“What you ask of me I cannot give to you,” the triarch replied before turning his head to Viserys. “But I can give to a man that was betrothed to my daughter from my own household and retinue without it being perceived that I hunger for glory.”

“All men hunger for glory,” Dragoneye contended.

The triarch gave a half smile, “If I could return the tigers to glory and see my daughter wed I would be most pleased,” he readily admitted. “And come the new year if both have come to pass I would give House Targaryen all off Volantis’ might.”

Dragoneye stood from his seat abruptly, “Make your choice Viserys and make it soon we are not to stay in Volantis long, you have until nightfall,” he said, leaving him to make a choice, go along with his father’s plans or betray them for his own ambitions.

**ELIA**  
_The Tower of the Sun_

Doran had left Sunspear for the peace and isolation of the Water Gardens, his gout had not been half so bad as it is now. She remembered when her brother could still walk, albeit slowly, leaning on a stick and grimacing with every step. Doran did not wish his enemies to know how feeble he had grown, and the Old Palace and the shadow city were full of eyes and steps he could no longer climb. The years had taken a toll on him as they did her but not on her body but on her mind. Every day that passed she wondered how did all of this come to pass, where did it go all wrong, how did she contribute. She fucked Rhaegar well enough, of that she was certain yet he still strayed, perhaps it is just a man’s nature, he was a crown prince after all, the most beautiful man she had set her eyes on, and he could have any maid in Westeros. The fault didn’t lie with her, perhaps it was just the gods' will that this happened to her family, they were known to be cruel, and her children growing up not knowing their father was certainly that.

She recalled the last time she had seen him, it was at King’s Landing. It had been more than half a year before that at Dragonstone shortly after Aegon’s birth when he left his loyal Kingsguard knights. She had been bed ridden for some time much like when she had given birth to Rhaenys. Dragonstone was quite grim, it wasn’t the most suitable place for children but generations of Targaryens had been raised there and Rhaegar was the Prince of Dragonstone and her place at his side except he was not there. The castle was much like her husband, isolated, solemn, dark, and surrounded by salt and smoke much like his birth and as the moons passed without Rhaegar by her side she could hardly tolerate it. When word came that the king summoned her to the capital so that she could present her son to him, she was very much in favor of it though it all proved a guise. It was only two years prior she had presented him with Rhaenys and the king refused to hold her because she smelled Dornish so Elia would take her time answering his summons. She knew the real reason the king wanted to keep her close, and it wasn’t because he was suddenly filled with love a grandfather might hold for a grandchild, it was so he could keep the Dornish loyal by holding her and her children hostage. By then word had already spread of Rhaegar’s absconding with the wolf girl Lyanna Stark, that coupled with the death of the girl’s father in a trial by combats who happened to be the Lord of Winterfell, half the country was in open rebellion and Dragonstone would not be safe for her. Much could be said about the city of King’s Landing but she much preferred it to Dragonstone, it was the home of the Targaryens, she felt much safer at the Red Keep being amongst Rhaegar’s family then the isolated island alone. Rhaegar’s mother, the Queen Rhaella was just growing with child when she arrived, and had already given birth to six children already, she provided a certain comfort that only a mother could, as for her husband’s siblings the Red Keep was filled with them. The two eldest Daeron and Shaena had a baby girl of their own who was almost of the same age as Rhaenys, while the princelings Aegon and Jaehaerys were nigh inseparable and the youngest Viserys was always clinging to his mother’s skirts.

As the loyalist war effort worsened, the king grew more erratic and more livid, dismissing hand after hand. Things came to a head when Rhaegar finally returned to the capital, although his reputation had soured after his supposed kidnapping of Lyanna Stark, some rejoiced at the sight, feeling the war effort could be turned while many bristled, the ten thousand Dornish spears, the small folk, and the king himself. Rhaegar had no excuse for his behavior nor an explanation for his disappearance, much like he had been for most of their marriage he was a man of very few words. The words he did share she clung to, unbeknownst to her at the time it would be the last they ever shared.

 _The night is darkest before dawn, and you and the children remain the sun_. How tightly he held her in his embrace she should have known it would be their last goodbye. The tender moments he shared with Aegon and Rhaenys, they would not remember but she would and although they did not remember him, his legacy remained. The Last Dragon they called him but his son was more than willing to take up the mantle. He fancied himself a conqueror as he was named for one but unlike his fore bearer he had no dragons so he needed to rely on alliances to conquer Westeros. The alliance they sought now would be most advantageous, the Tyrells of Highgarden, the liege lords of the Reach, and whom Dorne shared a borderline with. Their close vicinity would allow them to move relatively covert without attracting the attention of those they wished to depose. Although the Reach and Dorne hadn’t had the best relationship, they were the only two great houses that remained loyal to the Targaryens during Robert’s Rebellion. The Tyrells were stewards before the dragons came west, and with the extinction of House Gardener were they able to come into their many titles, Aegon would be sure to remind them if they had forgotten.

They traveled the road from the Water Gardens to Sunspear by litter, carved of cedarwood with silk drapes with suns adorned. They were accompanied by twenty guards, five spearmen at the front, five at the back, and five flanking each side of them including Areo who had his long axe resting on his shoulders and Maester Caleotte astride a donkey as they marched down the road beside the sea. They enjoyed the cool fresh breeze from the sea as they made their way across a sparse red-brown land of stone and sand and twisted stunted trees. Their party arrived in the late afternoon while the sun still red and bright, they glimpsed the towers of Sunspear for there were two, the Spear Tower, about a hundred feet tall and crowned with a spear of gilded steel that added another thirty feet to its height as well as the mighty Tower of the Sun, with its dome of gold and leaded glass with each of those towers rising from the Old Palace. Each of those structures were additions to Sunspear when Rhoynar arrived, of course it took a woman’s touch to take the castle to such heights. The Sandship, the oldest part of the castle, that superseded the arrival of the Rhoynar resembled a giant dromond that had washed ashore and turned to stone.

They tried to make way through the Winding Walls which led directly to the Old Palace, but it seemed the small folk had gathered around to glimpse their prince. The crowd of people shouted, waving their hands, but Doran did not appease them, staying hidden behind the curtains.

“Make way for Prince Doran!" Areo Hotah boomed out, thumping the butt of his longaxe on the bricks. "Make way for the Prince of Dorne!"

Eventually a path was cleared for the litter as the portcullis came down behind them, sealing the pathway from the small folk. As they passed the third of the walls, Elia spied Arianne, Aegon, Rhaenys, along with the old blind seneschal Ricasso, Ser Manfrey Martell the castellan, young Maester Myles and a dozen Dornish knights. Her niece was no doubt a woman grown and she knew it in how she strode to the litter in her snakeskin sandals that were laced to her thighs, her hair a mane of jet-black ringlets that fell to the small of her back, and around her brow a band of copper suns befitting a Princess of Dorne, she was a minx of the highest order. "Father," she announced as the curtains opened, "Sunspear rejoices at your return."

"Yes, I heard the joy." Her brother smiled and cupped his daughter's cheek with a reddened, swollen hand. "You look well. Captain, be so good as to help me down from here." Areo slid his long axe into its sling across his back and gathered Doran into his arms tenderly so as to not jar his swollen joints. Even so, Doran Martell bit back a gasp of pain. She stepped out after with her children soon joining her side. Aegon and Rhaenys greeted her with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. Every passing day it seemed that Aegon grew taller as she barely reached his chest now, he was just about as tall as his father was and he was just eight-and-ten. She watched them greet their uncle, thinking of how much time has passed.

“The Tyrells?” Doran inquired.

“They arrived shortly before you did,” Arianne replied.

“And how many in their retinue?”

Aegon answered, “I counted about ten. A couple guardsmen and some knights, with some ladies in waiting and handmaidens. The old woman seemed upset on arrival.” Doran looked impressed by Aegon’s recollection. “You don’t miss a thing do you?”

“Well I watched from afar while Arianne greeted them. I wasn’t quite ready to introduce myself as of yet,” Aegon retorted.

“And when will that be?”

“When I think they can be trusted,” he said flatly. She wasn’t sure how long her son could afford to not be in the forefront, though she did not distrust Doran he certainly was not as ambitious and eager for the alliance as Aegon was. Doran would be needed all the same, he was as wise as he was respected as the Prince of Dorne, on its face it would be a Martell and Tyrell alliance but the Targaryen facet would truly bind them together. They all made their climb up the long stone steps of the Tower of the Sun, passing through the great round chamber beneath the dome that was the throne room. The throne room would hardly make for a place to treat with honored guests, the only two seats of honor sat on a dias which might irk the pride of the Tyrells. Doran was smarter than that, although a prince, he was not as vain as most were. Arianne made mention of the apartments they had set aside for the Tyrell party if they chose to extend their stay at Sunspear, though her brother was confident the Water Gardens would prove to be a better option. Their sigil was a flower he said, they would have a greater appreciation for the fruits and tiled courtyards of the Water Gardens then the dry heat and sand that Sunspear would offer. They continued through the gallery to the outer comforts of the Old Palace to a room where the light of the afternoon was peeking through the tiled arches of the pavilion. Doran held his hand up, stopping their approach as he entered the alone, we’ll save him and Areo who carried him. Elia spied from afar there waiting for them on one of three couches was an old woman who she took to be the Queen of Thorns, with a young boy and girl at her side, and two guards behind them.

“Took you long enough, I don’t like to be kept waiting,” the old woman quipped. Areo laid her brother down on one of the couches, though he could no longer carry himself like a prince, he wore fine linens befitting one. Draped in Dornish garbs of gold and bronze, with a bronze pendant around his neck and rings decorating his fingers, with a myrish blanket laid on his lap. When he settled in her brother apologized, “Forgive me Lady Olenna, I’ve grown feeble in my old age. I’m sure you can understand.”

“I wish I had someone as strong and burly as this beast you have here to carry me everywhere,” she huffed, eyeing the captain of the guards. “They don’t make men like that in the Reach.” The wizened lady of the Reach wore a jade headdress similar to that of septa that wrapped around her neck but was more ornate as it was embroidered with a golden rose same as the coat she wore over the silk jade skirt.

 _Nor anywhere in Westeros she thought. At least not as strong or as honorable_. “He belonged to a religious sect in Norvos, the bearded priests,” Doran informed her. “He has served House Martell since I married, I’ve come to think of him as a gift given to me by my lady wife as he had served her family before mine.”

“The only thing my late Luthor gave me was a bumbling oaf for a son,” she groaned. The young woman next to her was abashed, her mouth agape as she covered it with her hand. “Grandmother!” the young woman said incredulously, embarrassed by the elder’s brazen words.

“Though I would not have you two if not for him,” Lady Olenna mused, looking at the ones who sat next to her. “These two are the light of my life, my granddaughter Margaery and grandson Loras.”

Prince Doran bowed his head to them, “I would greet you properly but it would be an unflattering sight to see my attempt to walk.”

The Queen of Thrones waved him off with her jade fan she had been fanning herself with. “There’s no need for such familiarities especially with our families history.”

“I’ve invited you here hoping to change that, it’s a shame your son and his heir could not join us, my daughter has longed to meet him,” her brother said regretfully.

“My son said he would rather die than endure the Dornish climate and suffer the presence of Prince Oberyn so I opted for more shrewd companions but I see you had the good sense of sending your brother away.”

“And Willas?” Doran posed. “From all accounts I hear he is very much a scholar.”

“And heir to Highgarden, his place is there and since his fall he is not suited for long travel,” the old woman said curtly. Elia heard the venom in her tone, Oberyn had crippled Willas Tyrell in a joust though the man bore no ill will to Oberyn, the same could not be said of his family.

“I hope the journey wasn’t too strenuous.”

“Three days on the road to Oldtown, then a fortnight at sea though we did stop at the Arbor and got this along the way,” The old woman snapped her fingers at one of the guards and they presented a jug. “Arbor Gold goes a long way in establishing cordial relations,” she said as the guard laid it on the small table in the middle of them next to the platter of fruits.

“You are most kind,” he said graciously. “We have the finest Dornish reds here as well if you care to partake.”

She wore a toothless smile as she considered the offer. “I have not come all this way so we could exchange wines.”

“No?”

“If my memory serves me well your letter mentioned some twenty thousand gold dragons and an offer I couldn’t refuse. I do hope it’s worth my while.”

“The offer I make is one of marriage,” Doran replied. “House Martell and House Tyrell have long been enemies, I aim to make us family, bound by blood.”

“Hardly an irrefutable proposal, much like your sour reds. Many great houses want to ally themselves with House Tyrell, yours is no different.”

Doran’s face soured, “What better match could there be for the heir to Highgarden than a princess? Think of it as recompense for the leg my brother injured. Then there’s the matter of your lovely granddaughter. You are the Queen of Thorns, perhaps one day she could be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

The old woman snickered much to Doran’s dismay, “I was under the assumption that title belonged to one Cersei Lannister, and the ruling royal family was House Baratheon unless something has changed.”

“Everything you assumed or thought you knew will come into question soon enough,” he warned.

“Seems like you’re finally getting to the point.”

“When you said Arbor Gold goes a long way you were right, in the slums of King’s Landing a jug of it can fetch you a nameless babe or two.”

“What need would I have for a peasant’s babe?”

Doran shrugged, “Perhaps if your granddaughter were ever to become Queen and her royal children’s lives were in danger she could simply swap her child with a peasant’s thus saving their heads from being smashed against the wall or being stabbed half a hundred times.”

“Ugly ugly business, Lord Tywin’s ruthlessness is well known across the realm.”

“As well as his riches,” Loras Tyrell added.

“House Tyrell is the second richest family in Westeros, is it not?” Doran asked.

“Second,” she sneered. “If you live as long as I have you’ll come to see that all things come second to money. The Lannisters are above reproach because they and they alone are the wealthiest in Westeros.”

“The fortune of geography I suppose. We have our geographical advantages as well,” he mused. “As the two southernmost regions in the Seven Kingdoms, the Reach being the most fertile and Dorne being the most treacherous.”

“House Tyrell knows Dorne’s treachery very well,” said the old woman. “A hundred red scorpions was it?” Her brother gave the woman a woeful look, “I only meant the terrain is treacherous,” he explained. “You have nothing to fear from me Lady Olenna. I am but a feeble man stricken with gout, and even before I became ill I considered myself complaisant and pragmatic. By all accounts I was much more pleasant than my brother Oberyn, though we shared the same blood we couldn’t be more different. He was ever the viper, dangerous and unpredictable, no man dared tread on him while I was the grass. The only thing we shared in common was the love for my sister Elia and her children. A lion may roam the fertile land but unaware are they of the dangers the grass hides until the viper strikes.”

Lady Olenna sat in silence before she gestured for one of the servants to pour her a drink, noticeably bypassing the red wine for the Arbor gold. A cup was poured for her and her grandchildren. “You say you are not treacherous but you speak of betrayal?” she quipped prior to sipping her drink.

“I made no oaths of fealty to the Lannisters nor the Baratheons. The Hand Jon Arryn simply asked that I seek no form of retribution, only that I keep the king’s peace,” Doran reasoned.

“But now you seek retribution seventeen years later.”

“It is not I that seeks retribution but the Targaryens that were deposed.”

It was Margaery who spoke suddenly, “The Targaryens are gone. No one has seen or heard from them since the storm that washed Dragonstone away.”

“Is that what happened?” He inquired and the young woman nodded as she took another sip of her drink. “It matters not, that was the King’s children. The Targaryens I speak of are the children of the crown prince Rhaegar as well as my sister.”

“But you said—” Margaery replied but stopped short as Doran beckoned them to come forward with a hand gesture. As they entered Elia took the empty space next to her brother, Lady Olenna regarded her suspiciously as Arianne and her children took the couch that sat across from the Tyrells. “I was told your wife had long since returned to Norvos.”

Her brother chuckled, “She has,” he said simply. “This rather is my sister Elia and her children who have long been thought dead.”

The reveal left each of the Tyrells staggering for words until finally Lady Olenna spoke, “This is all rather interesting, but the how of it all has left me disconcerted.”

Elia felt it had to be her to speak, a mother to a mother. “A certain man approached me before the city was sacked, claiming he could save the lives of my children but the cost would be three lives and a jug of Arbor Gold. It was simply an offer I could not refuse.”

**STORMBORN**  
_The Temple of the Lord of Light_

The morning light had broken through the bedroom window at the Merchant’s House, the room itself proved rather less than grand, but she couldn’t find it in herself to complain, she wanted away from the comforts of home and this is the hand she was dealt. A bedchamber with a feather bed, a creaky door and slanted wood-plank floors. It was dark when they arrived last night, and she didn’t have the best of sleep, she could hear and see how busy the city remained from the bedroom window well into the night which kept her up for a time but she eventually did find sleep only to wake up to the same raucous crowd much to her surprise. Downstairs in the common room proved to be just as loud even with all her brothers missing. The room was as big as the great hall at Dragonstone and just as poorly lit, the only saving grace from the noise was the amount of private areas and booths the ground floor held. She was accompanied by knights of the Kingsguard and the fisherman Cleitus as they broke their fast with tarts of beet, goat cheese and honey with roasted sausages and sweet beet juice, much to her surprise Ser Barristan spoke some High Valyrian when he asked for some ale instead of the beet juice. With the sun out, she thought it would give her a chance to really see the city but the Kingsguard knights begged to differ. If the four nights away from Dragonstone had proved one thing, it was that her brothers were a deplorable bunch but they made for much better company than Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold, famed warriors they might be, the same could not be said for their sense of adventure or conversation. Daenerys wasn’t sure if Ser Gerold was capable of anything other than grunt or groan while Ser Barristan’s sense of chivalry wouldn’t allow a maid such as her to be amongst the lowly as he put it. The only form of entertainment she had was watching men from all different backgrounds, Westerosi traders, merchants wearing unique dress sets, men as brown as ebony in their feathered cloaks all coming through the courtyard seemingly seeking favors from the old woman from last night.

The first of her brothers to appear was Jaehaerys, who came slumbering down the stairs. Though the second youngest of her mother’s sons, he was the tallest. Daeron would always berate him about his height, saying it was wasted on the likes of him. Jaehaerys was hardly a scholar, nor was he a warrior, Jae was just Jae. He wore his long wavy silver hair which he braided in a ponytail, with a lilac linen shirt that matched his eyes, breeches and boots that went up to his knees. If they were still supposed to be keeping their identity a secret they were doing a bad job at it. He joined them at the bench, taking the seat across from her before calling for the inkeep so he could break his fast as well. Jaehaerys ate like a man half-starved, eating two bowls of barley with almond milk with a side of honeyed tarts. She watched as he scarfed it all down, a big breakfast for a big man she surmised. “So where are our brothers this morning?” she asked.

“I haven’t seen them since last night,” he says very casually.

Daenerys was confused by his relaxed state. “Shouldn’t that concern you?” she asked him. He shrugged while continuing to eat his tarts, “They’re men grown, I’m sure they can take care of themselves.”

“And who will take care of the ones who might draw their ire?” she wondered aloud. Gods know Daeron had proved himself cruel, and Aegon was capable of anything, nothing would surprise her with him while Viserys never took well to any perceived slights.

“Am I my brothers’ keeper? Last time I checked I didn’t don a white cloak.” Jaehaerys replied, eyeing Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold.

“Perhaps you should have, maybe you might have recalled keeping to your father’s plans.” Ser Barristan snipped, taking the cloak although not white off his back and placing it on Jaehaerys’ head.

Jaehaerys scoffed, wrenching the cloak off his head. “Father’s plans went awry as soon Dragoneye turned Viserys,” he said sourly. “Or maybe even before that,” he finished as he eyed Dany.

“Do you at least know where they might have gone?” Ser Gerold inquired.

“Aegon said something about a brothel.”

Ser Gerold let out a groan hearing that, “You two stay here while Ser Barristan and I look for them,” he directed as the grumpy knight stood from the table, Jaehaerys stood as well to let him pass.

“Four pairs of eyes is better than one,” Daenerys said in a suggestive manner, trying to make a last ditch effort to see the city. The old knight was bemused, “It would be better if you stayed here on the chance the others return.” The two Kingsguard left the inn leaving her to wallow in the silence with her brother and the fisherman.

Almost half the day had gone by the time they returned with her brothers in tow, but they were noticeably one short which begged the question. “Where’s Viserys?” she pondered aloud, the faces of Kingsguard and their silence gave nothing away. It was only Aegon who provided an answer as he plopped down, taking a seat across from her next to Jaehaerys while the others stood. “The sun is still out,” he explained as he took Jaehaerys’ mug for himself. “Gives him ample enough time to get to know his betrothed before dusk,” he said, smirking.

Daenerys was taken back by what she had just heard, “His what—”

“His betrothed,” Aegon repeated. “Surely you didn’t think Viserys would wait on hand and foot for your favor forever.” She felt abashed, he made it seem as if she had degraded Viserys for not wanting him as he had wanted her but why did news of his betrothal bring about feelings of contempt than relief. Who could this woman be? “I just find it strange is all,” Dany said. “One night in Volantis and he’s betrothed to a harlot he met in Volantene brothel, doesn’t seem like an ideal match,” she reasoned.

“She’s not a harlot, she’s of noble birth. We came upon her at the Black Wall and I made arrangements for them,” said Daeron.

Daenerys was still bewildered. “So you met a girl by chance and decided she should be your sister by law.”

“I only decided she should be our sister by law once I learned her father was a triarch,” he replied. Daenerys remembered the old woman and her story, her husband was a triarch, men who held sway in Volantis. Of course a betrothal made in one night had to be a grab for power.

“Here we are straying from father’s plans again,” Jaehaerys noted quietly. “What do we hope to gain from this besides inciting father’s wrath.”

“Ships, soldiers, weapons, the entire might of Volantis in a year’s time if the city favors the tiger faction.” It all sounded like nonsense to her, she knew little of the city as she was not allowed to explore it but she knew Viserys and he was not likely to agree to something if he didn’t stand to benefit unless Daeron forced him of course. She looked to the Kingsguard who remained quiet in the shadows of her eldest brother. “Did you know about this?” she questioned.

Ser Barristan shook his head, “The first I’m hearing of it,” he answered.

“If you worry for Viserys he’s only just across the Long Bridge. Triarch Malaquao has invited us to stay for supper as his honored guests, you are welcome to join us, less you rather stay here with Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold,” Daeron said. “You’re welcome to join Jaehaerys, but I’d understand if you want to stay your last night in Volantis amongst the downtrodden, they’ve always been more your ilk,” he teased. Jaehaerys said nothing, only raising up from the table with Aegon as her siblings headed for the exit leaving the Merchant’s House behind.

Outside waiting for them was a wheeled cart being pulled by a small elephant and a litter that was being held by four slaves. “I’m not getting on that,” Dany said flatly.

Daeron lifted her off her feet bringing her to the wheeless box, pulling back it’s curtains and laying her on the satin cushions. “It’s not as if I’m giving you any other choice, this is the only way across the Long Bridge,” he retorted as her transport began to move. She watched her brothers get in the back of the cart and follow after her. Despite herself she let the curtains fall, seeking comfort from the sweltering heat of Volantis and reclined back onto the cushions. The city had a repugnant smell and the heat didn’t help either nor did the amount of people. Far more slaves than freedmen likely if every person of quality was escorted in such a manner. It was slow but convenient, and the longer she stayed lifted the more grateful she became as Daeron had not overstated the distance of travel. Dany could tell they had made it past the harbor cause she had smelled the seafood of Fishmonger Square yet she was still being carried. When she peeked her head out she saw the close confines they were subjected to, two carts abreast with men and women displaying goods in front of their shops, it was when she eyed a pair of severed hands did she feel the need to drop the curtain once more. The hands were a warning for thieves no doubt but once past cautionary display, the foot traffic around them lightened, where the eastern end was chaotic the western end was ordered. When they came to a halt, she was offered a hand to be let down, and that’s when she saw it, the glory of the Old Blood, the gigantic black dragon stone wall but lying just beneath but almost just as tall laid a temple. A temple made of red stone, an enormity of pillars, steps, buttresses, bridges, domes, and towers flowing into one another as if they had all been chiseled from one colossal rock. “The Temple of the Lord of Light,” Dragoneye whispered. There had to be a hundred hues of red, yellow, gold, and orange melted into the temple walls much like the sky it reached for.

One by one they climbed the steps leading to the temple doors, Dany dawdled behind her brothers as a line of men in ornate armor and orange cloaks lined the steps that led to the temple's doors, clasping spears with points like writhing flames. Sensing her trepidation Daeron slowed till he was of pace with her, "They’re the Fiery Hand. The Lord of Light's sacred soldiers, defenders of the temple."

Dany was confused by the notion, “Why does a temple need soldiers?” she asked.

“To protect the temple of course.”

She still did not understand, the most pious were considered people of peace. “Who would want to harm them?” Dany pondered aloud.

Dragoneye sighed, “Not everyone shares the same beliefs. Faith is one of the rare things that allows us to think outside of ourselves, to believe in something bigger than us. What does a slave have to believe in?”

“That someone will save them,” Dany replied. Daeron put an arm around her shoulder to whisper in her ear. “Look at their faces, the soldiers are slaves as well. The flames mark them as slaves of R’hllor who also happens to be their god. The Lord of Light is the faith most of the slaves in the city adhere to, and the slaves in Volantis outnumber freemen five to one. What would happen if the zealots rile up the slaves?”

“A revolt,” she answered.

“Westeros has seen it more times than one, though there are no slaves, the Faith of the Seven holds sway in the hearts of the majority. When they deemed incest and dragons abominations against the seven gods, the people revolted, the pious arming themselves to carry out the will of their gods. Maegor was the only one able to quell the revolt as the men who profit from slavery in Volantis would hope to do so as well if the day ever came.” Just as he finished Aegon and Jaehaerys pushed through the temple doors which led to a great hall with rows of wooden seats, the walls lined with torches, the windows covered in stained glass of red and gold, and at the center of the hall stood a pulpit made of red stone sitting high on a dias with a fiery heart at the back of it. From out the shadows appeared a bearded priest accompanied by two acolytes. “May I be of help?” he asked in High Valyrian.

“I’m looking for the priestess Kinvara,” Daeron bellowed.

“What need do you have of her? I’ve never seen your faces around here before,” the bearded priest replied. He had pale eyes and a gaunt face, she felt uneasy under his intense gaze.

“What difference does it make when it does not concern you? Dragoneye said hotly.

The priest did not back down, “Non-believers and vagabonds entering the Temple of the Lord of Light does concern me as they would deserve nothing less than a fiery death.”

“And we are neither,” Jaehaerys hissed. The priest studied them, caressing his long beard which had two golden prongs one one top of the other. “I’ll be the judge of that,” his voice doubtful. Just as the interaction was growing hostile the priestess she knew to be Kinvara appeared with several of her clergy, priest and priestess alike from seemingly all walks of life, all clad in red such as their name sake would imply. One of them being a man dark as night, if not for the torches that lit the room, his white hair and the whites of his eyes would be the only discernible thing about him along with the fire tattoos that decorated his face. Another one of them was a thin woman with slant eyes with a tear tattooed on her face, but the one who stood out the most was the tallest of them, bald and thin, his whole face covered in flames that you could hardly see his pale skin. When the tall man made his approach, Daenerys felt a presence about him, similar to how she felt when she was near Lady Melisandre. “Forgive Sala, he did not know that you were instrumental servants of R’hllor,” the tall man said in High Valyrian, his voice amiable. “How could he? He has not seen the flames as I have.” The bearded priest fell to knee, “You are the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, the Lord speaks through you and we all listen.”

“There was a time I was simply Benerro before I was the High Priest of this temple but I always was a slave to the will of R’hllor,” he said as he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder beckoning him to stand. “Rila go with Sala and proceed with the nightfire, I will be there shortly.” The man rose from his knees, and left the temple accompanied by the red priestess and two acolytes who took up two torches that had lined the walls which darkened the room. The High Priest had a half smile on his face as he watched them, “Sala is one of our newest priests, he is eager to prove himself,” he explained.

“Understandable,” Daeron replied. The High Priest faced him, “Is it?” he asked. “Have you ever been a slave Ser?”

Daeron seemed annoyed, “A man does not need to be a slave to understand one’s quest for validation.”

“A man was sold like cattle to a temple and now must live to serve it. It’s easy enough when they’re sold as children but a man grown is another matter. Tell me when you became a knight, did you ever think you would turn your back on the innocent you were charged with protecting.” Daeron only glared at him giving him no answer as the High Priest continued. “Yet knighthood was a choice for you, slaves are given no such choice, their purpose is decided by the highest bidder yet they serve it all the same as it is life or death. What purpose do you serve Daeron Targaryen?”

“To see my father on the Iron Throne,” her brother said staunchly.

The High Priest sighed, “That is your father’s will, not yours.” Benerro eyed them closely, moving from sibling to sibling till he came face to face with her. “You all have the same eyes, different shades of purple yes but behind that, a burning desire that only you know.” When Dany dared to meet his gaze, she felt her bare arms pimpled in gooseflesh. “This one’s fire could light up the world if the flames are fanned. What is your name girl?” Benerro asked.

“Daenerys,” she said softly.

“I shall remember it,” he vowed as he walked past her to open the temple doors. When she looked outside the sun had set, the terrace just below the steps was filled with people, slaves, had to be at least a thousand of them. A great iron brazier stood just at the base of the steps, with a red priest on each side. The flames burned high, the wisp of smoke hung in the air as the wind blew. Soon it was as if she could even feel the heat emitting from where she stood, as the gathered worshipers lifted their voices in prayer. The red priestess she knew as Rila had begun to shout, “ _Āeksios aōhos oñoso īlōn jehikās kesrio syt bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys! Hae jeme istin. Sindity se liorty, qilonty se ozbārty._ ” The gathered responded in unison, "Lord of Light, protect us, for the night is dark and full of terrors.”

The red priest Sala spoke next in a booming voice, “ _Aōhon iksis se vēzos bona warms īlva tubissa, aōhon iksis se qēlossās bona guard īlva isse se zōbrie bantio_.” Again they chanted together, “Lord of Light, defend us, for the night is dark and full of terrors.”

“This is much livelier than the nightfires back home,” Aegon noted quietly. 

“That’s because the people here actually believe in the Lord of Light,” Jaehaerys whispered. As quiet as they spoke the red priestess Kinvara must have overheard them as her eyes found them. “Are you not true believers?” the red priestess asked in the common tongue.

“What is there to believe in?” inquired Aegon.

“That we all serve a greater purpose for the Lord of Light.”

“Living life as a fanatic seems such a waste,” her brother said. “I’d rather believe in things that I can see and touch, like a woman’s flesh.”

She turned to him completely, “So touch me,” Kinvara suggested grabbing Aegon’s and bringing it to her face. “Don’t you feel the Lord’s burning inside me,” she said letting his hand go but it lingered. “Don’t you see everyone gathered here has been touched by our Lord, even the biggest skeptic among you could not deny the Lord’s power.” All these priests were well spoken and drew eyes to them, Kinvara was no different, the tight bodice of her gown made her harder to ignore than the others. Her large breasts sat high on her chest while the rest of her gown was relatively loose, especially the sleeves, so loose that she pulled a small wooden box from it and presented to Daeron. “What is it?” Aegon asked curiously, his hand finally falling from her face to eye what she had handed Daeron. When he opened the wooden box it was filled with rings of black stone that glimmered.

“A daylight ring for Viserys,” Daeron answered.

“That’s more than one ring,” Dany observed, there had to be at least twenty she guessed.

Daeron grinned at her, “How perceptive of you sister,” he said as he closed the box. Dany and her siblings turned their attention to the crowd that grew thicker with man, woman, and child as Benerro began to address them. His voice was high and carried well, he spoke with a conviction that made her listen to his words intently. He spoke of an ancient prophecy that foretold the coming of a hero to deliver the world from darkness but from what she saw it had already taken over. Night had fallen on Volantis, and the stars in the sky and the nightfires weren’t enough light for the Volantene. For the slaves all they had known was darkness, she could see it in their face, those faces marked with tattoos were also marked with desperation, their hands waved in the air, the collars tight around their neck, they reached out for Benerro as if he was the savior he spoke of. As his voice rose to a crescendo, fire leaped from his fingers which made the crowd gasp then cheer. Dany thought to herself, perhaps she could take up that mantle, be the one they cheered for as well as being their savior but she would need more fire to light this world full of darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I again apologize for the wait between chapters. I promise to do better next update. Next chapter there will be smut, Jon/Lyanna specifically if you’re into that sort of thing. Maybe some Arianne/Aegon/Rhaenys or just Aegon/Margaery. Also would anyone be interested in Kinvara smut? Let me know.


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